


CinderQuinn

by OftenEvening



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: After chapter 1 prologue time jump a LOT happens in a short amount of time, Alternate Universe - College/University, Attraction, Cinderella Elements, Fascination at first (first?) sight, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, First Love, Friendship, Halloween Costumes, Hopeful Ending, JongSang best friend goals, Kissing, M/M, Male Cinderella, Not angst exactly more like a degree of inner turmoil or self-doubt, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, San would totally go on a quest, Secret Crush, Set in the recent past, Texting, Very very hopeful ending, moderate swearing, sansang, some sexual references/humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:13:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22827736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OftenEvening/pseuds/OftenEvening
Summary: Yeosang spent six years in the U.S. before returning to Korea for college. Wooyoung as a roommate he could handle. Wooyoung’s best friend, San, frequently hanging out in their dorm room? Can be dealt with. Yeosang’s crush on San? Has to stay a secret. Because it’s just a crush. Right?(Note: I had to write something about Yeosang as Harley Quinn. I *had* to.)
Relationships: Choi Jongho & Kang Yeosang, Choi San & Jung Wooyoung, Choi San/Kang Yeosang
Comments: 121
Kudos: 252





	1. A Prologue. July 2017, late afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: some unpleasant and bullying behavior and language in the prologue. But it's only part of this one chapter. Nowhere else in the fic!

Being very well-mannered was a good thing. It meant that the security guard wandering campus had just nodded when he saw Yeosang sitting on steps in a courtyard, staring at the sky. He wasn’t in summer school—he was a graduate. He shouldn’t even be on the high school grounds. But he’d always been polite and careful, so the guard turned a blind eye to his quiet visits. In a few weeks, the last six years of his life in the U.S. would be a memory.

This time, he was the only one changing countries—his future was in Korea, his family’s business ties meant they’d be here…who knew how much longer. But him? He needed to readjust to Korean society, he needed friends and a network to rely on for his future there, he’d eventually owe military service, and he understood all that. So, a Korean college education it was. His parents had conceded on his major, at least….

He heard loud laughter nearby and hopped up. _They_ were here. He was almost out of the courtyard when the loosely gathered group of boys, a little younger than him, turned in. He paused.

He hadn’t had to deal with many direct confrontations since the first year his and Jongho’s families had moved here, their fathers sent from the home office in Seoul to reorganize the U.S. branch. Jongho had been his defender, young as he was, and the middle school boys backed off. His freshman year of high school, he’d made enough friends through skateboarding to have the protection of that small clique. Then sophomore year, Jongho had arrived, and being best friends with a popular athlete meant no one bothered him.

Right now, though? He was prey.

“Oh, the Kang kid!”

“How old is he, 15? He graduated early, right?”

“Nah, he just looks it, being so short and skinny.”

Compared to them, he was shorter, but he wouldn’t say short. Skinny? Hm. Slender, he’d agree with. English had so many words with so many meanings.

“Maybe be careful—he might do martial arts.”

“Him? He’s always studying. Or on a board.”

They sauntered closer. He took a breath and readied himself.

“Going back home, soon, right? Good. You don’t belong here.”

“Maybe we should get him there sooner.”

They laughed and started running towards him. Yeosang turned and bolted.

“Loser! There’s no way out that way!”

Think it through, he told himself, each step bringing him closer to his goal. Foot, push off, foot, push off, grab, pull up. That’s it. He’d practiced it at the studio, but never here. It had to work.

“You’re running into a corner, dumb—what the _fuck_?”

Pulling himself onto the roof, he gulped air. Wow. Coach Kyla had been right. It wasn’t as difficult as it seemed, once you understood how, and were strong enough. He stood up and walked to the edge to look down at the gaping boys.

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know. You Spiderman, Kang?”

He laughed. They glared at him.

“Please. It’s parkour.” He looked around. The roof had no guardrails of any sort, so he’d have to be careful, but it was spacious enough…. “I don’t mind staying up here, you know.” He took several steps toward the center and did a butterfly kick. “I’ll just practice,” he called back down.

“Parkour? Like that online stuff?”

“Yeah, but there’s like, some gym an hour away that teaches it? Jesus.”

“He’s so small though.”

“Dude, he just _ran up a corner of a wall and onto a roof_. And now he’s doing flips and I don’t know what.”

“Hey! Kang!”

He paced to the edge.

“Yeah?”

“What’ll you do if we call campus security? Or the cops? They won’t like you doing all that.”

“Go for it. I’ll tell them it was—what’s that phrase they use—fear for my life.”

“You’re not afraid of shit.”

“Did you think to record me up here? No. So it’s your word, all of you, against mine. Me. Stuck up on a roof. Where I will now just sit and wait. Using your phones now? I’m just sitting. Waiting for you to go away, so I can manage to get down somehow…” He spread his arms in a shrug and put on a sad look.

“You’re an ass!”

He slumped his shoulders and gazed at them sorrowfully.

“Oh, c’mon, let’s go.”

“And let him win?”

“You wanna just stay here and stare at his face? What, do you _like_ him?”

The others laughed.

“Go to hell, Drew. You, too, Kang!”

Yeosang shook his head and pulled his legs towards his chest.

“Fine! Let’s go.”

He watched them walk away, keeping his body hunched over. He was only one story up, but it was enough to see when they were off the grounds. He unclipped his phone from the belt holster—how it hadn’t fallen was amazing—and dialed the only number he could.

“Hi. Yeah. Can you come get me? I’m at the school. No, I can’t just walk home, I’m on top of the science building. They seem to be gone, but…yeah. Thanks. See you in a bit.”

He relaxed and tilted his head up, looking at the clouds again. At least he’d had the chance to try out what he’d learned before he left. American police weren’t enthusiastic about parkour in public, but in Seoul…who knew? It was frustrating not knowing all the daily ins and outs there like he knew them here.

Oh, he knew how to behave in general. He remembered his childhood, and summer visits and Skyping had kept him connected—and his parents had only ever spoken Korean at home, so his fluency had never dropped—but what people his own age were like? He wasn’t even starting college when they were, since the academic year was different. 

He’d read articles and watched the news—especially this past year—and, as always, kept up with Naver Webtoon and joined in the comments sections there. He watched the popular dramas they could access. But none of that was the same as daily life. Then again, watching American TV shows and reading about the U.S. hadn’t prepared him for life here, and he’d adapted. At least with Korea, he was _returning,_ and it _was_ home. Importantly, he’d blend in. No more being singled out for looking different.

He heard the lyrics of a Bruno Mars song, volume increasing as the singer neared. He grinned, and after a quick check below, twisted his body around the edge to a wall hang, and carefully lowered himself into a drop. He’d done it! A tiny hop of excitement spun him around to face Jongho, unimpressed, tossing car keys from hand to hand.

“I don’t mind playing rescue,” he said mildly, “but how’d you let yourself get trapped by Drew’s kids?”

Yeosang sighed. “Bad timing. I got lost in my head, worrying about…home.”

“There are things to look forward to. Much more time to draw. Fewer useless courses. You’ll be one year older again. No more visa renewals. Better food.”

“Cafeteria food is better food?”

“Can’t be worse than cafeteria food here. But there, there’ll be street food stalls, and convenience stores near and on campus. Remember all the chicken that can ordered…hah! Knew that’d get a smile. And you’ll make friends. They’ll invite you over for meals.”

“ _You_ would make friends and be invited over. That’s like breathing for you. This is me.”

Jongho turned and Yeosang fell into step with him. “Hmm. It won’t be as bad as middle school, you know.”

“Nothing is as bad as middle school. Middle school is a circle of hell.”

“Thank you for the reminder that Mr. Pruett references Dante every week. My enthusiasm for World History is renewed.”

“You liked him as an assistant baseball coach.”

“We traded puns. Then he got divorced. He lost the dog, the house, and his sense of humor.”

“Oh, I’m going to miss you.”

“Do not get sappy on me. Do not you dare Kang Yeosang.”

“Hush.” He swatted at Jongho’s upraised fists. “You’ll miss me, too. No one else to watch dramas with.”

“I’m sure I could persuade a few people…”

“You mean the girls from drama club.”

“Possibly.”

“They won’t be able to follow your re-casting outbursts. Plus, you’ll have to wait for subs so they can follow along. If they’re even willing to read the subs.”

“The anti-subbers and pro-dubbers are in film club, not drama club.”

“That makes no sense. But then…it’s 2017 America.”

“All that needs saying.”

“At least 2017 brought you Do Bong Soon,” Yeosang said with a sly smile.

Jongho clutched at his heart. “Only the _best_ female lead in years.”

“All because she squeezed apple juice with her bare hands….”

“You wanted Ahn Min Hyuk’s drones.”

“Who doesn’t want a drone? Or his job. Wait, no. I wanted the job of the game designers who worked for him.”

“You’ll get a job like that, eventually.”

“If I can make it through the animation program. If I can make contacts. If they don’t assume my webtoon being cute means that’s all I’m capable of.”

Jongho pulled Yeosang to a halt.

“Yes?”

“You didn’t persuade your parents to agree to an arts program with this kind of negativity. What’s wrong?”

Yeosang fidgeted.

“I…it’s never been just me. Moving here, I had my family, I had you, your family…. But there…I won’t know anyone. Thousands of people just on the campus, let alone the millions who live in Seoul. I didn’t want to attend that opening ceremony ice-breaker party thing in the spring term, but everyone else will. I’m not an international student who’ll be assigned mentors and given help adjusting. I’m not a transfer, used to college in Korea, already used to my studies, just changing…the atmosphere. Everything I’m used to, everyone I know, will be left behind, here. And I know that a lot of that is normal to college, but there are too many extra factors that make this feel…messy and isolating. I will look like I belong, but I won’t feel like I belong. I won’t even sound like I belong.”

“Your accent will come back. It always does, after a week or so, in summers.”

“But I’ll still be alone.”

Jongho glanced around the parking lot and sighed.

“If it was anyone else but you. If it was any other situation but this.” Gently, he pulled Yeosang into a hug and patted his shoulder. “You know I’m following you. A year from now, you’ll be settled enough, I expect a tour.”

“You could get into acting programs here.” Yeosang’s voice was muffled.

“And how do I achieve my dream, then?” He released Yeosang and stared at him. “What’s my plan for World Domination?”

A reluctant smile crept onto Yeosang’s face. “Double major in drama and voice in Korea. Get cast in as many campus productions as possible. Get noticed as one of the handful of Korean actors who can act and sing in Korean and entirely fluent English. No role is too small. Get cast in a musical. Build up enough of a fanbase so when military service is done, your agent has potential projects in Seoul, Hollywood, and New York City.”

“Perfect recitation. Car’s right over there.”

“You have it written in permanent marker on a whiteboard in your bedroom! I’ve seen it thousands of times. I could probably recite it backwards—not that I will!” he added hastily. “But there are several drama programs in Korea.”

“Even if I’m not at your university—though their programs in acting and voice are very good and I would be very happy, independent of you, to be enrolled in them—I’ll be in Seoul. That’s where the agents are. That’s where the best chances are. So, no matter what, I’ll be in the same city as you, within a year. I know, it’s a year. But e-mail and Facebook and Instagram and Twitter—pick, and even if it’s odd hours, I’ll be here for you. Just like you’d be there for me, if the situation was reversed.”

“Of course, I would!”

“Then it’s settled. You can make it a year, Yeosang.”

“Hyung.”

“What?”

“You’ll have to call me that, over there,” he said, as evenly as he could.

“It took me _ages_ to stop doing that here, and now I have to go back. Stop laughing, right now, and get in the damn car. I’m not giving in to the system until I have to.” He scowled at Yeosang as they buckled up. “ _Hyung_ ,” he muttered. “May you wind up with a roommate who makes your life torture.”

“On a scale of dull to vicious, that’s a mean way to be mean—or was it simply a means to an end of this conversation? Which did you mean?”

“Leave the puns to me. You’re terrible.”

“Terror-ful?”

“Quit it.”

“Quidditch?”

“Kang Yeosang!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, 2 things. First: A close friend in university dated a girl from India and also a girl from Pakistan (at different times). He dated each long enough, I got to talking to them about pretty much anything, and them feeling distant from home and difficulties/frustrations living here came up a few times (both were born outside the U.S. but are now citizens). I drew from my recollections of those conversations to form part of Yeosang's thinking in this prologue...the rest is my imagining how isolating it might feel. I hope none of it offends!! The bullying...was unfortunately easy to imagine. Sigh. I also watched a short documentary on the experiences of Koreans and Korean-Americans living in the Atlanta area. Bits of that went into it. Oh, and I read some blog entries written by expats.
> 
> Second: I watched a lot of parkour instructional videos and did my best to describe the few moves. Anyone who knows more--please forgive any errors!


	2. When Things Begin to Change. October 2019.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So idk about your phones, but in mine, contact IDs are only viewable to me, even in group text chats. Same for group names. That said:
> 
> Yeosang: Me  
> Jongho: LeadActor  
> San: Mountain  
> Wooyoung: PinguDances  
> Mingi: Lumiere  
> Yunho: NewsAt6
> 
> Hongjoong & Seonghwa will show up later, and their "names" introduced then.
> 
> Cause I added in U.S. education, to be clear, this is what's in my head:  
> Hongjoong (and Seonghwa) enrolled in March 2017.  
> Yeosang enrolled in Sept. 2017 (b/c U.S. hs grad in May)--some Korean unis do seem to let people in then.  
> Yunho, San, Mingi, and Wooyoung enrolled in March 2018.  
> Jongho enrolled in Sept. 2018 (b/c U.S. hs grad).
> 
> Finally......I didn't know how to show a switch to English (I don't plan on doing it much!), so I chose underlining. Not really pretty, but all I got since I'm mostly html-clueless.

Yeosang counted to ten. Twice. He could hear them through his headphones. Why did they have to be so _loud_? And be liked enough that no one reported them for it, even during midterms? He’d file a complaint himself, except…Wooyoung was his roommate, and San was Wooyoung’s best friend. It wasn’t worth the misery, and it wasn’t as if it would _change_ anything.

Normally, he could handle it. He’d watch anime or get lost in drawing his webtoon updates, but right now this paper needed all his attention, and every scrap of material he needed to write it was stacked on his small desk—yet there they were! Five feet away on Wooyoung’s bed, laughing and arguing about the drama department’s exam-burner Halloween party and he was going to kill them. He was going to kill them both, One-Punch Man-style, and then need to flee the country. He growled and grabbed his phone.

**Me:**  
Please give me a reason why I shouldn’t kill them.  
Except the obvious, that bloodbaths are messy.  
And I don’t want to make the cleaning staff mad.

**LeadActor:**  
Hello to you, too.

**Me:**  
San lives two floors above us.  
Just two floors, in a triplet suite with Yunho and Mingi.  
They could go there. All four of them could Volume Up together.

**LeadActor:**  
_That_ 4Minute song and MV? Really?  
Who are you assigning to which role?  
And the group did have 5 members…

**Me:**  
I was just referring to the title!  
You’re going to scar me forever one day.

**LeadActor:**  
What are they going on about?

**Me:**  
The drama department’s annual excuse to cosplay drunk.

**LeadActor:**  
If last year was any guide, it’s great fun to watch.  
You could go with me.

**Me:**  
No.

**LeadActor:**  
But I miss you in full on “I don’t give a shit” mode.

**Me:**  
Are you trying to pout in text? Still no.  
And crowds never brought that out in me.

**LeadActor:**  
They did once.

**Me:**  
That was an event away from school.  
No one knew me.

**LeadActor:**  
Dress up in a costume and come along, then!  
We can be sneaky, and no one will know us.

**Me:**  
Half the campus knows the freshman who got cast in a webdrama.

**LeadActor:**  
It was a great experience, and I loved it, but it was not a webdrama.

**Me:**  
Kim Hongjoong wrote it, directed it, filmed it, it’s online,  
therefore, you and San co-starred in a webdrama.  
Which reminds me.

He pulled down his headphones and twisted around. “Have you decided yet?”

“He won’t let me. I want to be Harry Potter, but he says I should be Malfoy. All because my hair is blond right now and his is dark.”

More poutiness. Gods above. “San, my roommate can’t pull off ‘sinister’ to save his life. You can. You’re a better Malfoy.”

“Two to one!” Wooyoung crowed with delight.

“How am I sinister? How?!”

“You and Jongho were psychopaths. Malfoy’s family killed people. Same head space.”

“That’s typecasting!” San accused.

“You and typecasting don’t fit in the same sentence. Estragon in the _Waiting for Godot_ summer seminar, the seductive psychopath in the webdrama—”

“It wasn’t a webdrama, it was an experimental film.”

“Actors are so picky. It was intense, and dramatic, split into parts, and uploaded to YouTube. I can call it a webdrama if I want. But whatever. Just be Malfoy for a night. Wooyoung as Harry will look cute, you as Draco will be hot.”

“Hey! I can make Harry sexy!”

San gave Wooyoung an appalled, incredulous look.

“Hm.” Yeosang swung back and forth in his chair. “You could…and Yunho would toss you over his shoulder and carry you out for violating canon. Not the best way to exit a party, but memorable.”

“Why do I feel like you’re not wrong?” Wooyoung muttered.

“Because you know I’m right. Yunho’s Harry Potter wand stays in its wooden box on the top shelf of his desk. What kind of fan do you think he is?”

“I could use a temporary dark color spray on my hair….”

“It’s a _party_. Attitude and costume are the main factors. Anything else is just bonus.”

“Says the one who never goes to any,” San said pointedly.

“I don’t like them,” Yeosang replied calmly. “But I _do_ draw a webtoon with no dialogue. His thoughts show up in how he’s drawn. The analogy isn’t difficult to make.” He turned back in his chair.

**Me:**  
They’re going Harry Potter themed. All four of them.

**LeadActor:**  
Okay. But while you were gone, I had a thought.  
If I came up with a costume that kept you so unknown even your roommate  
couldn’t guess your identity, would you reconsider?

**Me:**  
In such a theoretical, never going to happen world…yes.  
Reconsider. Not agree.

**LeadActor:**  
Excellent.

**Me:**  
Good luck. But not really!

**LeadActor:**  
Mm-hm.  
Remind San about Stage Combat.  
He’ll leave in a hurry.

**Me:**  
You could’ve said that earlier.

**LeadActor:**  
I was being a good dongsaeng, distracting you, and preventing murder.

Yeosang laughed. Dongsaeng? Was that ever going to feel normal again? Before America, he’d never have questioned it. Six years in U.S. schools, and now it made him smile each time Jongho said it. Wait. Why was the room quiet? He twisted back. San and Wooyoung were staring at him.

“What?” he asked defensively.

“I’ve…never heard you laugh like that,” Wooyoung said, in a puzzled voice. “I’ve been your roommate a year and a half, and I’ve somehow never heard you like that.”

“Jongho?” San inquired, tilting his head at the cellphone.

“Yes.”

“Ah.”

“Oh, San?”

“Yeah?”

“He said to remind you about stage combat.”

“Shit!” San sprang off the bed. “I gotta run. Department sunbae is staying late today to tutor anyone before the mid-term practical. Thank him for me, Yeosang!”

Hm…that startled look on San’s face…if he made it cuter and simplified it, he could draw it for Hehetmon. Like if he went to a haunted house, that look…that could work. He pulled his drawing tablet from a shelf and withdrew the stylus, tapping it against his lower lip.

“Webtoon update?” Wooyoung asked eagerly.

“If you shut up, maybe,” he replied absent-mindedly. Excited panel when idea proposed, bouncy while standing in line panel, silhouetted against the open door panel with eyes staring in the dark, nervous panel with ghosts rough-sketched, startled panel when he tripped on a ghost, and final panel happy Hehetmon realizing they weren’t real? Cute.

***

The next day, his paper almost complete, Yeosang stretched and wriggled his fingers. So much typing to highlight his favorite animated shorts. He admired all his artistic friends, but he firmly believed animators had the widest range of options to choose from to express their stories. From brushwork to digital, rapid-fire dialogue or no words at all, full scores or faint background—all those options and everything in the middle, animation was enchanting.

His phone buzzed twice. Hm.

[Catch-99]

**PinguDances:**  
Like I said, this is our best chance at the group costume win.  
Me, Harry. San, Draco. Mingi, Ron. Yunho, Dumbledore.

If Wooyoung found out his contact was a tribute to a stop-motion penguin who spoke gibberish, would he laugh, or hunt him down the hallways? One of many reasons never to lend his phone, and be glad contact names were only visible to their creators.

**Lumiere:**  
Why is he Dumbledore again?

**Mountain:**  
He’s the oldest of the 5 of us—and tallest.

**Lumiere:**  
Tallest?? Barely.  
Hold up though. 5?  
Is Yeosang going somewhere outside his room???

**Me:**  
I am not a hermit. I go places.

**PinguDances:**  
Convenience store. Library. Your college building.

**Mountain:**  
Jongho drags him to anything theatrical. And he did go see you dance once.

**Me:**  
I should mute this chat.

**Lumiere:**  
So party or no party?

**Me:**  
No party.

**PinguDances:**  
Even though he’s pretty enough to be  
Hermione and then we’d totally win.

**Me:**  
I do not look like Emma Watson.  
She’s stunning.

**Lumiere:**  
Uh…you are kinda pretty. You could make it work.

**Me:**  
I do not do parties.

**PinguDances:**  
Anyway! Yunho is the oldest of us 4. So, Dumbledore.  
Mingi’s hair is red, so Ron.

**Lumiere:**  
Not for much longer.  
Advisor says no one would look at me for internships  
with hair this color.

**Me:**  
Because hotel management are suits.  
When suits dye their hair, it’s _not_ a bright color.

**PinguDances:**  
He would know, Mingi.

**Lumiere:**  
Just because he lived abroad??

**Mountain:**  
His and Jongho’s dads are corporates.

**Me:**  
Wow. You remembered. But yeah.  
Nice, subdued colors. No red, no green, no blue.  
Enjoy it while it lasts.

**Lumiere:**  
Fine. Ron. Though I’d be a great Elsa.

**Mountain:**  
You’re too tall.

**PinguDances:**  
Any Frozen costume would be indecent on you.  
Besides, group costume award!

**Lumiere:**  
Wait if I’m Ron because of my hair color….  
How can San be Draco and Wooyoung Harry?

**Me:**  
Not again.

**PinguDances:**  
I said I’d spray my hair dark brown!  
San…well. He can’t bleach it for a party.

**Mountain:**  
_My_ advisor would throw a fit.

**Lumiere:**  
Doesn’t seem all that fair….  
But, hey, I didn’t expect to be included, so it’s cool.  
Figured you two would be going for best couple award.  
Since you’re, y’know, a thing.

A wave of nausea washed over Yeosang. San and Wooyoung were a thing? For how long? Since they first started hanging out in the dorm room? No, that wouldn’t make sense. But San did have the single in the triplet suite, with Yunho and Mingi roommates in the double. So they could…there.

**PinguDances:**  
Excuse me? We’re just friends.

**Lumiere:**  
Really? Cause some people think it’s more.

**Mountain:**  
Friends, Mingi. It’s a thing.

**Lumiere:**  
You’re not exclusively dating anybody and friends with benefits is a thing.

**PinguDances:**  
If you have something going on like that, good for you.  
But don’t share. I don’t want the mental visual.

**Mountain:**  
I’ve never heard anything from my room and the walls in the suite are thin.  
You think he’d be quiet? Hah!

**Lumiere:**  
Yeah, but I see Yeosang coming back a lot at curfew like me.  
And he doesn’t do bars or clubs or stuff so why else  
would he be gone?

**PinguDances:**  
He has to do work?? Unlike some people??

**Mountain:**  
And he uses equipment in his school’s lab.  
Have you never seen what he creates?  
It’s not pencil and paper!

Yeosang laid the phone on his desk. He was going to get drawn into this. He just knew it. When Mingi was convinced, if it made sense to him, then it must be the real deal, and he’d pursue it until he was convinced otherwise. San and Wooyoung? He fiddled with a loose bit of yarn on his sweater cuff. He _was_ gone a lot. To the animation department for classes and projects, and the library for research…and sometimes he left out of sheer terror he’d be caught staring. His phone was vibrating with incoming messages. He didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to read any more. But he did _not_ want this to continue in-person. He just wouldn’t scroll up. He’d just deal with the most recent text. Attack first. He took a deep breath and picked his phone back up.

**Lumiere:**  
Yeosang. Yeosang. Yeosang.

**Me:**  
What?

**Lumiere:**  
You weren’t answering me.

**Me:**  
I have classes I want to pass.  
My college demands more than bright smiles  
and “what can I do for you today, sir?”

**PinguDances:**  
Ouch.

**Lumiere:**  
I do more than that!  
Why weren’t you answering me?

 **Me** :  
I got bored and put my phone down.  
No interest in reading your jerk-off fantasies.

 **Mountain** :  
Are you being called out, Mingi?  
Are you thinking about two of your friends?  
When your own roommate isn’t in the room?  
When it’s all private…?

**Lumiere:**  
Shut up!!!!!

**PinguDances:**  
Aw, I’m touched.

**Mountain:**  
Hah-hah!

**Me:**  
You’re all disgusting.

**Lumiere:**  
But you didn’t answer my question.

**Me:**  
Which? I stopped reading a while back.  
I don’t care enough to scroll up.

**Mountain:**  
I was defending your artwork.

**Me:**  
Much appreciated.

**Lumiere:**  
On American shows, roommates leave so they don’t  
see or hear what’s going on.  
Is that why you’re gone so much?

Oh, for the love of God and all the creatures he or she created.

**Me:**  
You think I’m being sexiled.

**Lumiere:**  
What?

**Mountain:**  
What?

**PinguDances:**  
What?

**Me:**  
If you’re going to use American shows as reference points,  
I’ll respond in English.  
Use a translation app.

He waited. He was pretty sure the wording wasn’t going to translate well, and redirection was a skill he’d learned years ago.

**Lumiere:**  
I wasn’t asking if _you_ were having sex.

**Mountain:**  
Look up the one word on Google.  
Copy the English definition into an app.  
That one word conveys a lot.

**Me:**  
I’m sure similar concepts/phrasing exist here.

**PinguDances:**  
San showed me the meaning.  
What _are_ you watching, Mingi?

Where were they? One of the student lounges? Didn’t matter. Didn’t matter.

**Me:**  
Hey! I don’t want to know what he’s watching  
that has him thinking about you and San.

**Lumiere:**  
I didn’t! I don’t!  
Why am I being attacked??

**Me:**  
Because you jumped off the high dive without checking the pool.

**Lumiere:**  
I don’t get it.

**Me:**  
Mingi. You’re not dumb.  
You just don’t think ahead.  
You have this totally brilliant idea=standing on a high dive.  
You don’t think about alternatives=you don’t check the pool.  
You rush forward with assumptions=you jump.  
Your assumptions are wrong, you land on top of people,  
they’re annoyed, you get attacked.

**Mountain:**  
I love this imagery.

**Lumiere:**  
Why would _you_ be annoyed?

**Me:**  
Because illogic is annoying.  
It’d be rude if they were constantly kicking me out for sex.  
Do I act offended around them? No.  
Therefore, it’s not happening.  
I’m just _busy_ and they’re _loud_.  
Like _you_ are loud.  
So more often than I’d like, I have to escape.

**PinguDances:**  
Is true. He said if I was quieter, I could get massages.

**Lumiere:**  
???????

**Me:**  
Wooyoung. Not helping.

**NewsAt6:**  
To stay in this chat, or to leave?

**Mountain:**  
Yunho! Smack Mingi with a pillow.

**NewsAt6:**  
I would if I was in the dorm. Just taking a break.  
I saw all the alerts. Now wishing I hadn’t.

**********

**Me:**  
Really? Really?? Out of context like that?

**PinguDances:**  
What? You did make the offer.

**Me:**  
When you whined about Jongho getting leg massages,  
and wanted to know why you couldn’t get one.  
You just threw it out like a standing invite in the middle  
of a sex conversation. Now he’s going to start  
_thinking_ and assume San and I are _sharing you._

**PinguDances:**  
I am very popular…

**Me:**  
You’re a hideous brat.

**PinguDances:**  
You like me.

**Me:**  
I tolerate you.  
And changing roommates isn’t easy.  
Just as likely to lose any dorm assignment.

**********

**Mountain:**  
You should see his face.

**Me:**  
Tell him to use the pain for beauty and dance it out.

*************

**Me:**  
I am trapped in a group text falling into madness.

**LeadActor:**  
Is that a declaration or a preamble?

**Me:**  
[screencap]  
[screencap]  
[screencap]  
[screencap]

**LeadActor:**  
Look at you being bold and striking back!  
I’m proud.

**Me:**  
He was going to keep at it otherwise.  
I had to shift his focus.

**LeadActor:**  
Admirably done, though why he thinks they’re more is beyond me.  
They do not give off that vibe.

 **Me:**  
Vibe?

**LeadActor:**  
How to explain it to someone who’s never been on a date. Hm.

**Me:**  
When you say it like that, it sounds not nice.

**LeadActor:**  
Are you crossing your arms? You sound like you are.  
For…reasons, you haven’t dated.  
But that isn’t the point. Use your own logic.  
You have _never_ been kicked out.  
You don’t even flee half the time, you just put on headphones.  
Think it through.

**Me:**  
I did. Briefly. I can see it, and I can’t.  
They both know so many people.  
They go out on group dates.  
I’m used to that. But them _together_?  
Hurts. Which is so stupid.

**LeadActor:**  
Emotions aren’t stupid, but again, think.  
When they’re in your dorm room, all they do  
is laugh and talk and watch movies, right?  
If they were somehow finding time to sleep together, they’d be so different.  
Even when it’s casual, the _vibe’s_ different.

**Me:**  
Oh. That makes sense.

**LeadActor:**  
Thank you!  
Also: Wooyoung isn’t San’s type.

**Me:**  
I don’t see how you can know that.

**LeadActor:**  
I am trying, God.  
I am trying to be patient with this hyung, but it is difficult.  
Give me strength.

**Me:**  
You have strength.  
If God gave you more strength, you’d be a mutant.

**LeadActor:**  
Do you want to know, or not?

**Me:**  
Yes….

**LeadActor:**  
Someone Hongjoong-hyung cast as a victim, in that outside scene.

**Me:**  
That scene was terrifying.

**LeadActor:**  
Yeah, well. We took a break, and out of nowhere, she brought him  
a water and slid into the ideal type question.

**Me:**  
On behalf of someone I have never met,  
I feel second-hand embarrassment.  
I don’t know how celebs here tolerate it.

**LeadActor:**  
At least you’ll never be asked it!  
Most answers are just variations on a theme.  
But San? With total sincerity, he told her,  
a warm-hearted person, someone kind.  
That looks didn’t matter if the inside wasn’t beautiful.

**Me:**  
All that describes Wooyoung, though.  
Beautiful inside and out, generous, sweet…  
even if he’s loud.  
He absolutely _could_ be his type.

**LeadActor:**  
Damn it, Yeosang, you’re so stubborn, I can’t do this in Korean.  
Wooyoung/San is me/you.  
Remember how people took that wrong?  
That’s how Mingi went veering off a—I was gonna say cliff,  
but the diving board metaphor was flawless.  
San’s ideal type’s what he’d say to an _interviewer_.  
IOW, what he won’t take less than.   
He’s never gonna tell _everything_.  
Dude’s a starry-eyed romantic.  
He’d go on a quest, sail the high seas, trek through deserts.  
He’s the most Disney Prince person I’ve ever met.  
Korean. Korean. Right. Hyung.  
They would never work.  
Anymore than you and I.

**Me:**  
Please do not finish that thought. I’ll throw up.

**LeadActor:**  
Exactly.  
And you’re as weird as he is.  
Falling for someone in aged-up makeup.  
In a role in a play that can mean almost anything.

**Me:**  
He was so different.

**LeadActor:**  
We all of us are, if we’re decent performers.

**Me:**  
I know. But I didn’t think he could do that play.  
Not really. But he did. Beautifully.  
And then you two proceeded to give me _nightmares_ with that drama.  
He’s versatile and expressive.  
He loves what he does as much as I love what I do.  
And his smile.

**LeadActor:**  
Cutting you off.  
I’ve heard this before.  
You have a huge crush on him.  
Which you’ll do nothing about.  


**Me:**  
Because it would be pointless.

**LeadActor:**  
_You_ are _also_ kind and warm-hearted.  
It might not be.

**Me:**  
Pointless and awkward.  
Option A, polite rejection, yet I’d still see him most days,  
because of Wooyoung. Or, worse,  
Wooyoung hangs out upstairs with him after, and  
_looks at me differently_ because _he’d know_.  
Or San somehow says yes, and I make an _idiot_  
of myself, and he politely ends it, and see the above,  
but _worse even still_ because _more_ people would know.  
I’d have to move out of the dorm.  
Not worth it when disaster is the result.

**LeadActor:**  
_Or_ he says yes, you get over the awkwardness,  
and have a lovely time dating him.

**Me:**  
I’m me. He’s him.  
I’d never be able to even say the words.  
It just isn’t worth it.

**LeadActor:**  
But you still want him to like you.

**Me:**  
That’s just…wishing on a star. Silently.  
Because I am never saying anything.  
I’ll get over it. It’s only been a few months.

**LeadActor:**  
Then let’s get over it.

**Me:**  
What?  
Hold up, Wooyoung is back!

The quiet ‘snick’ of the door unlocking was all his warning. He locked his phone and put it facedown. In burst Wooyoung…and San. Why now? He snatched up a pen and scribbled random words on scratch paper. The door shut.

“Unbelievable!”

“I know!”

Yeosang laid down his pen and turned his chair. “What is?”

“You weren’t on the chat anymore, were you?” San asked.

“No. Texted Jongho for a bit as a break.”

“Without you there to annihilate him, Mingi just wouldn’t shut up,” his roommate complained.

“Do _you_ think we’re together?” demanded San.

“Friends with benefits.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

What the absolute hell?

Yeosang stood up slowly and walked towards them. He sat on his bed and gestured them to sit on Wooyoung’s. He stared at them. Was Jongho right? He’d have to assume so and run with it.

“No. You don’t give off that vibe.” He shrugged.

“Which vibe?” San asked.

“The so desperate you’re hooking up in dance practice rooms vibe? Because I don’t know where and when else you’d be able to. Walls too thin in the suite upstairs. You’re usually down here, but you’ve never stayed overnight, nor, as I said, kicked me out. I’ve never stumbled into anything. The only _clean_ alternatives on campus—since neither of you have the time to go off-campus—are small dance practice rooms. But it doesn’t seem your style. Unlike Mingi, you passionately care about graduating from here. Semi-public indecency, to put it nicely, risks suspension or expulsion, and makes it all impossible and illogical.”

“Whyyyyyyyyy couldn’t you have stayed in the chat to tell Mingi that?” Wooyoung whined.

“Maybe I would have if you hadn’t made it look like we had a secret threesome!” Yeosang shot back.

“I _told_ you it was your own fault.” San smacked Wooyoung on the shoulder, then turned to Yeosang. “Without you there, Wooyoung dropped Mingi from the group costume plan.”

“What?”

“He was too irritating! And you don’t really care.”

“He’s my suitemate. It’s not going to be a walk in the park, let’s all fly kites, happy day when I go back. I care to an extent.”

“So now it’s just the two of you?” Yeosang asked cautiously.

“Yeah,” Wooyoung said gloomily. “We would have won as a group costume, but San and I in robes with scarves, we won’t even win the couple costume. Stiff competition for that. Don’t really think _they_ will either. Yunho will fight to be Spiderman and Mingi wants to be Elsa.”

“Or Yunho could decide they should go as Harry and Ron. Bet he wasn’t keen on being Dumbledore.”

San and Wooyoung exchanged looks.

“That means Harry and Draco versus Harry and Ron, and countless other couples. Mingi is tall, and he has that perfect red hair. And Yunho is an obsessed fan, so they might stand a chance….” Yeosang mused.

“Hey! Roomie! You’re supposed to be on our side!”

“I am! Just pointing out probabilities.”

“If they win, Mingi won’t shut up about it for _months_.”

That was a likely assessment. Maybe even texts every day. Yeosang wouldn’t put it past Mingi to frame a certificate—is that what they gave?—and put it on the suite walls with a smirk.

San sighed. “Well…there are a lot of inventive people. They probably won’t.”

“Yeosang,” Wooyoung said tentatively, “I don’t suppose you’d let us see the Hehetmon update early, as a cheer up?”

He pressed his lips together, then sighed and walked back to his desk to retrieve his tablet. He opened the file and handed it over. “No talking about it to anyone! It’s going up next week.”

San crowded close to Wooyoung as they scanned it.

“Aw,” Wooyoung beamed at him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Feel better?"

“Yeah…I just hope some other couple blows Mingi and Yunho out of the water.”

San patted Wooyoung on the head. “Let’s watch a movie, huh?”

“Um, don’t you have midterms to study for? I mean, my paper is almost done, but I still have exams after.”

“We do, but they’re mostly based on performance evaluations this term. We’re pretty good. Thanks for making sure.” San gave him a soft smile, then turned to Wooyoung, already looking at options on his laptop.

Yeosang returned to his desk and stared at his computer. Mingi _had_ pushed too far. And he _would_ be unbearable if they somehow won. If only there was a way to guarantee they wouldn’t. He hesitated, then picked his phone back up.

**Me:**  
Jongho? You said you maybe could…  
If there was a costume that would entirely hide  
my identity, it’d be an impressive one, right?

**LeadActor:**  
Of course. But what’s with the subject change?

**Me:**  
Long story. Sort of.  
I just need to know something first.  
Is it a costume that could go with someone else’s?

**LeadActor:**  
Like a couple costume?

**Me:**  
Yeah. Something that might stand a chance of winning.

**LeadActor:**  
Hyung, what on earth has gotten into you?

**Me:**  
I don’t like seeing him sad.  
Even if it’s not really that big a deal.

**LeadActor:**  
San?

**Me:**  
No, Wooyoung. I’ll tell you later.  
But is there a costume that would go with it?  
Something you could wear?  
And we could maybe win?

**LeadActor:**  
Is this…is this like that one time in high school?  
The away trip?

**Me:**  
That wasn’t planned.  
But Wooyoung has always been nice to me.  
And I _can_ do it. If no one knows who I am.

**LeadActor:**  
Oh my God.  
Yes. Yes, there’s an outfit that would go perfectly.  
A combo that would smash all the competition.  
Hold on a sec.

Yeosang glanced over at San and Wooyoung. He sighed softly. He’d been so excited. And now…he wasn’t. It wasn’t fair to have your hopes dashed. Mingi’s stubborn single-mindedness…he had to hope an internship would knock some sense into him. Or all his degree would give him is a better chance at being a concierge. Which might not be bad. He normally loved making people happy. And concierges had to be determined, he supposed?

**LeadActor:**  
Back. I just had to make sure.

**Me:**  
It’ll work?

**LeadActor:**  
Yes. Yes, to the nth power.  
Nobody else will stand a chance.

**Me:**  
I am feeling increasingly worried, but…good cause.  
This better be a _perfect_ disguise.  
I can’t get into that mindset if I’m scared they’ll know it’s me.

**LeadActor:**  
If someone camped outside my parents’ house, and they saw you walk in,  
and then saw you walk out, in this costume?  
They would assume you were still inside.  
They would never even think it was you.

**Me:**  
Okay. I trust you.  
Our goal is to win.  
To make Wooyoung smile.  
He’s a loud pain in the ass, but…  
I really wouldn’t want to change roommates.

**LeadActor:**  
You will win.  
There is not a single doubt in my mind.  
You will _dazzle_ , Kang Yeosang.  
And your partner is a perfect foil.

**Me:**  
Impressed with yourself that much?

**LeadActor:**  
Uh…yeah. My hair and makeup skills from drama club?  
Just as good as the students in theater here. Better, maybe.  
This will be _historical_.

**Me:**  
Historical???  
Good cause. For a good cause.  
Okay. Plan it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real fact: Waiting for Godot premiered in South Korea in 1969. Article on a 40th anniversary production said it's been performed over 1,000 times. So I figured 50th, there could be a seminar/performance. Black box theaters were used at my uni for small student productions on a regular basis, so that's what I had in mind.
> 
> Like everything in this fic, from admissions policies to dorms and campus stuff, I drew from several Korean uni webpages and Vlogs/blogs. Triplet suites as described are a real thing--often with a small shared bathroom/shower. Double rooms by themselves mean community showers/bathrooms (which cues awful flashbacks for me). I tried to be somewhat faithful........but there's more input from my own experience, cause that's what I know.
> 
> And, yes, Hehetmon as a webtoon! I couldn't resist.


	3. Another Point of View. Post-midterms, Saturday night, Part 1.

Jongho

Yeosang’s parents had sold their apartment when they moved to the U.S., but the Choi family had kept their medium-sized house and rented rooms to students during their absence. When Jongho returned, the property manager’s duties for this one residence (of the many he oversaw) dropped to on-call status. Legal and financial adjustments were made, automatic payments arranged for all expenses, and a healthy allowance put at their eldest son’s disposal. All they required him to do was get good grades, and keep up the house. He’d debated offering a room to Yeosang, but decided against it. If he did, he knew his friend would interact with even fewer people on campus. But he kept the bedroom ready, for the infrequent times their schedules allowed them both to ignore obligations in favor of drama marathons. Yeosang had been right—it wasn’t the same, after he left. No one else was willing to listen to him analyze vocal inflections, facial expressions, and why other casting choices would have produced better chemistry. He smiled as he laid his friend’s costume on the bed, moved to the desk, and began to arrange the cosmetics he’d purchased. He’d spent hours the night before making the cheap wig look more natural, and left it carefully balanced on a lampshade.

“You’ve spent a lot of time and money on this,” his visitor observed from his cross-legged position on the floor.

“He’s my closest, dearest, most trusted friend, and this part of his personality…it’s his heart, but for a lot of reasons, he’s rarely able to act on it. I miss seeing him embrace it. If a complete disguise is what it takes to give him the freedom to do what he believes needs doing, then I’ll make that happen.”

“And you called me because?”

“Because you’ll fit the concept better than I would, and you’re always up for a challenge, hyung.“ Jongho grinned at him. “I didn’t expect you to actually dye your hair, though.”

“Never done green before. It’s entertaining.”

“Fitting that you think so.” He laid the last brush down. “You sure you don’t need help with your own makeup?”

“Just the English on the forehead. I’ll take care of the rest. Ah, that’s the door, I think.” He began to stand up.

Jongho took a deep breath and started for the front door. It _was_ the most perfect disguise, and when both men were dressed and made up, there was no way they could lose. His sunbae would be wickedly appealing, but when Yeosang walked into the reserved hall on campus, if conversation didn’t grind to a halt, he’d quit watching dramas for a month. Two months. He just had to override his friend’s initial resistance to another person knowing.

He opened the door to find Yeosang nervously playing with his jacket’s zipper. His eyes flew to meet Jongho’s, and a slight frown appeared.

“You make an elegant Dracula, but I don’t see how a costume matching that could disguise who I am—or, to be frank, win.”

“Be patient. I said no one would stand a chance.” He grabbed the shopping bag from the ground. “The boots?”

“Yeah. But why white boots if we’re doing something vampire?” Yeosang followed him inside, shutting the door and pushing off his shoes.

“Your costume’s in your room. You’ll see. Were they still in the room when you left?”

“Yeah. Arguing over open or closed robes, loose or knotted scarves. Wooyoung looks adorable and San—,” he broke off as they stepped into the room and came face to face with the other man. “Jongho?” he asked warily. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know if you remember meeting him at the screening of the film, but this is my sunbae, the director, Kim Hongjoong. Hongjoong-hyung, this is my best friend, Kang Yeosang.” Perhaps he should let Hongjoong calm him. He was good at that.

Yeosang bobbed his head in a confused greeting. Hongjoong’s mouth quirked up at one corner as he returned the acknowledgement.

“The hair was a faded dark red when last you saw me.”

“Oh.” He looked around the room, and his eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Whoa. Not vampire couple. Villain couple. But why…?” He looked back and forth between the other two. Hongjoong smirked. “I take back the question. I see it.” He nibbled on his lower lip. “Did Jongho tell you why I wanted to do this?” he quietly asked.

“He told me a little. I know San well, of course. He could play this role, but I’ve been informed he and Wooyoung will be Potter and his nemesis. I fully expect loud shouting of spells and counter-spells.”

Jongho chuckled at the thought. _He_ fully expected Wooyoung to create an interpretive dance spell tonight.

“There is a high chance of that,” Yeosang replied with a smile. “But they won’t be the only ones. San’s suitemates, Song Mingi and Jeong Yunho, will be dressed as Ron and Harry. There was…an argument over the original group costume concept.”

“Wooyoung is your roommate.”

“Yes.”

“You want to win the couple costume award.”

“Yes.”

“Against him and San.”

“Not exactly. I need to win to make sure Mingi and Yunho do not. Things were said. Unfair things. I don’t like seeing dreams crushed. Even small dreams can mean a lot to a person.”

Jongho winced. He knew what that referred to.

“Wooyoung knows he and San alone have no chance. I don’t know that the other two _would_ win, but they might. The consequences would reach farther than I can explain. If someone else takes the prize, then all four of them can complain together, and the wounds will heal.”

“Hmm.” Hongjoong stroked his chin. “Maybe we should have worn sageuk costumes. You sound very wise.”

Yeosang flushed. “I thought about it too much, I guess.”

“I wasn’t mocking you,” the other replied gently. “It’s more the irony of such good intentions, when wearing such villainous attire. You do have a good heart.”

The sentimentality in the room was starting to make Jongho feel ill.

“So, we’re all on board?” he asked. “Yeosang? Hyung won’t tell anyone who you are.”

“But he’ll have to say something. I can’t talk.”

“Why not?” Hongjoong asked curiously.

“The lisp,” Jongho said with a sigh. “You run into any of the other four, they’ll know it’s you.”

“In the volume of the hall? I doubt it. If anyone asks, you’re a friend so impressed with my directing and my actors, you wanted to come to the party to congratulate them. Unfortunately, you developed laryngitis.”

“How Little Mermaid of me, to lose my voice with such poor timing.”

Hongjoong’s eyes brightened with mirth.

“He also saw San in Waiting for Godot,” Jongho interjected.

“That’s not relevant,” Yeosang hissed back at him.

“Hmm. We’ll see if that’s needed.”

“It’s not,” Yeosang said, a faint blush on his cheeks, “We should try to avoid talking to any of them.”

“ _You_ won’t be talking. But I’m curious to see them with their capes and wands. You said they looked cute, didn’t you, when you came into the room?” He gave Yeosang a speculative look.

Hongjoong-hyung was quick, Jongho thought appreciatively. “He said Wooyoung was adorable. How did San look, hyung?” He kept his eyes wide and innocent, fooling no one, he knew, but when conniving, it was important to look pure-minded.

“San looked very…Slytherin.”

“Slytherin-gorgeous-but-evil or Slytherin-creepy-evil?” he pursued.

“San could pull off creepy,” Hongjoong reflected. “Sitting alone in a dark house, waiting for someone to turn on the lights....”

“He didn’t look like that! He looked…he looked…very striking.” Yeosang cleared his throat. “Shouldn’t we start this whole costume process? You’re mostly ready, Jongho, but Kim-Hongjoong-ssi—”

“No. That’s much too long. You know Jongho. We’re going to this party as if _we’re_ friends, even if you’re not talking when we get there. You can call me Hongjoong-hyung.”

“Oh. Thank you. But you have to get ready, and if Jongho is going to live up to his promise, it’s going to take some time for me to be transformed.”

Hongjoong nodded and leaned closer to Jongho to whisper in his ear, “Be glad you’re a vampire, because if looks could kill, you’d be dead by now. Good luck.” He waved at Yeosang and lightly ran out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

“Thank you _so_ much for making it clear I have an interest in San beyond him being my roommate’s best friend. What was the _point_? This evening is for Wooyoung. It’s so the four of them don’t destroy their friendship over Mingi’s stubborn delusions. I’m not doing this for fun. I’m doing it for them. Which reminds me, when do they hand out the awards?”

Jongho shook his head to clear it. “Last year, it was around 9:00, I think?”

“Nine o’clock. Clothes first, then makeup, then that rather impressive wig?”

“Yes.”

Methodically, Yeosang stripped down, pulled on the Daddy’s Little Monster shirt, and with a sigh of resignation, reached for the mesh stockings. Once on, he began easing the ripped, white jeans over them, careful to avoid snags.

“I need to leave soon after that. They think I’ve gone to the library. I need to be back in the dorm, looking normal, by the time Wooyoung gets back. How on Earth did you get the right size jeans and how much money did you spend on all this?”

“I spent what I felt necessary, but it wasn’t that much. And I checked your jeans size when we stopped by your room to get some notes this past week. There’s going to be a lot of makeup involved in this, so I also picked up a pack of makeup remover wipes. We’ll put them in your backpack along with the clothes and shoes and jacket you came here in, store it in a student union locker, and you slip the key into your jeans pocket. Really, it’s better if Hongjoong-hyung introduces you to San and me, and then just…whenever you’re ready to leave, come find me. I’ll make sure no one follows you—”

“Follows me?” Yeosang fastened the belt. “Now what?”

He understood why Yeosang had stopped thinking much about his appearance in the U.S. He knew it had bled over into Korea, though he was certainly close to several ideal types. Still, realizing his friend had no idea how much of an impact he would make, dressed not in oversize sweaters and practical jeans, but in a costume that _fit_ and made it clear the gym was a place he knew well? Mind-twisting.

“Sit here, close your eyes, and tilt your face up. Hyung, you’re going as Harley Quinn. Kim Hongjoong as your partner Joker. You’re going to attract a lot of attention on both those points. With that same reasoning—”

“What’re you doing now?”

“I _was_ cleansing your face. Now I’m applying primer. Then foundation, then powder, then details. Let me concentrate?”

“It just feels strange.”

“Adjust.”

Yeosang folded his hands together.

“You’re going to have a lot of eyes on you. Some might be…interested in following you. Not safe. I’ll help you slip out of the room and back downstairs to grab the backpack. The hallway next to the copy room on the same floor? There’s a single women’s bathroom with a changing table there. Yes, yes, I know. I’ll wait nearby, you change clothes and remove enough makeup you can get into the dorm without being noticed. If you shower fast, you should have plenty of time to get settled. Okay, there. That entirely altered your skin tone. You look like Snow White.”

Yeosang snorted. “All about the Disney today.”

“This next part you’re not going to like. Open your eyes but do _not_ move. Or we might make a hospital visit instead.”

“Eyeliner? That’s not too bad, my mom does that.”

“No, waterlining. Right on the inside of the eyelid.”

“Why??”

“It just makes your eyes stand out more, okay? I know what I’m doing. Just _don’t move_.”

Slowly, Jongho traced along Yeosang’s eyes.

“That does _not_ feel good.”

“Almost done…there. Don’t rub your eyes!”

“How do you tolerate this on a regular basis?”

“I got used to it. Close your eyes.”

Jongho painstakingly darkened, widened, and filled in Yeosang’s eyebrows. He set down the pencil and brush and reached for the eyeshadows. Turning back, he paused. What had he said to Yeosang last week? Dazzling? Epic? He didn’t think he’d said epic, but already the transformation was so extreme, it seemed epic-worthy. He opened the pink shadow and gently swirled and tapped the brush. With a practiced hand, he swept it under and around one eye, layering for emphasis. With a second brush, he blended the line into the powder. Seamless. He repeated the process with the other eye, and the blue shadow. It wasn’t as dark as he’d have liked, but it would have to do. Make-up, of course, hadn’t come with the tee shirt and jacket he’d paid extra to ship quickly. Too bad the baseball bat would be considered a weapon on campus. He’d left it in the box. Blue eyeliner he had found, and he drew a tiny heart. Lipstick. Hmmm.

“Open your eyes again.”

Yeosang blinked his eyes open. Jongho caught his breath. Damn, he was good at this! Oh, he could not _wait_ to see people’s faces. He handed the lipstick to Yeosang.

“Harley Quinn, remember, her lipstick is messy. It’s better if you do it. Better even to keep it in your pocket, so you can reapply, if you eat anything.” He handed a mirror over and waited. After one quick peek, Yeosang’s hand dropped and he stared at Jongho, his mouth parted in shock. The temptation to chant ‘I told you so’ was strong, but he held back.

“There’s still the wig to do, but practice the lipstick first.”

Yeosang nodded silently, uncapping the tube and raising it and the mirror to his face. Jongho walked over to the lamp and lovingly removed the wig. He’d spent so much time brushing and arranging the dip-dyed pigtails he almost felt attached to it. This would be the final piece to entirely alter the other’s appearance. The boots, eh. Necessary, but not influential. The hair and the makeup and the clothes…truly, he could not wait to see reactions. He’d have to enter the room slightly before and find a good position to watch.

He walked back and tilted his head. Messy lipstick, all right. 

“Don’t forget to check your teeth. Use a phone camera if you need to.” He got a confused look. “Lipstick is weird. It’s applied on the lips, but it can move. So just check, when you reapply. Right now, you’re good. Now the wig, there’ll be pins holding it in place. A lot of them, since we do _not_ want it slipping. Some of your hair will be visible, but people won’t be paying attention to that. Endure it until you leave the party, then I promise you can throw it all in the trash after you change.”

“I appreciate this, you know. A lot. I could never do this without you.”

“Together we will return balance to the world of the ’99 line!”

“Very stage-worthy.”

“I try. Be still again, please.”

Ten minutes later, every minute punctuated by curses, the wig was secure and yes…epic was indeed the word. Silently, Jongho pointed at the mirror still in Yeosang’s hand. He stared at his reflection for a long time, his eyes shining.

“This is _perfect_. I look nothing like myself.”

“It won’t be absolutely different until you switch mental gears. That one time…back during high school…that away trip…you crackled with anger and energy so intense you took over the room.”

“I’m not angry right now.”

“No, but you have a cause, as you did then. Like a superhero.”

“Dressed like a villain. Should I put the boots on now, since they’ve never been worn outdoors? I have this feeling you want your sunbae to see what you’re fully capable of.”

“Ahhh, yeah. I do. I’ll go grab my cloak and check on him. He needs me to draw the last tattoo.”

Yeosang grinned.

“Just to be safe, you should smile with your mouth closed. Looks more mysterious, and even less like you. Remember, you’re Harley Quinn. You don’t give a shit about anyone but the Joker.”

Yeosang held the mirror up to cover his face and then lowered it, the faintest trace of a smile lingering.

“That. That! Please look exactly like that when you walk into the room together.”

“Hmm. There’ll be food there, right?”

Jongho rolled his eyes. “Yes. And we’ll leave shortly. Hongjoong-hyung’s car is parked on the street. It seemed a better option than the subway.”

“Oh, gods, yes. The looks I’d get!”

“I was thinking more about not messing up all my efforts or someone stepping on my cape.”

Yeosang fought down a laugh and gave him a slight, closed mouth smile instead.

“There you go. Be back in a bit.”

He hurried out of the room, shutting the door behind him. In the third bedroom, Hongjoong was patiently waiting for him.

Yeosang

He could do this. He would do this. He pulled on the white zippered boots. He could this. He would do this. Since that strange group chat, even San was a little snappy, and he _never_ let himself get that riled up. The suite must be tense. Wooyoung was frustrated and still slightly sad. He could do this. He would do this. He looked in the mirror again, moving it around. From every angle, he looked extraordinarily different. Kim Hongjoong probably thought he was overreacting, but things had gone too far for words. Action was needed. He wished he could be confident enough for that, without needing the security of no one knowing who he was. Maybe in the future. Some day.

He doubted anyone else tonight would have had the attentions of someone as talented as his friend. He felt 90% certain of winning the best couple award, just because of that. What he was wearing was pushing boundaries, though slightly less so for a party sponsored by the drama department. That should win him—them, really, points. The rest depended on Kim Hongjoong.

Jongho eased the door open and beamed at him. His black hair was combed back, lips glossy blood-red, a crimson vest setting off the shirt, bow-tie, and pants, and a very long black cape now hung from his shoulders. Dramatic. He approved. Behind him was…the Joker, in his formal black and white tux, white gloves, one hand swinging a slim purple cane. His deeply shadowed eyes gazed at Yeosang with a curious glitter in them, his mouth curling in a smile as he took in the changes, bright red lips shocking against the white face paint. With all that, the small J on his cheek, the delicately drawn scars, the carefully cursive “Damaged” Jongho had written across his forehead, so close to the slicked back green hair, Kim Hongjoong looked predatory. He held out his empty hand and serenity flooded Yeosang. Serenity and an odd sensation of power. He gave in to it, to let it last for as long as he wore these clothes. He tilted his head and met the other’s eyes with a coolly assessing look of his own, then rose and stepped forward to shake his hand. Hongjoong’s surprise was noticeable, and Yeosang raised an eyebrow in question.

“Harley Quinn, I underestimated you. Let’s go rule the world. At least a small section of it.”

Yeosang nodded and scooped up his backpack with one hand. He could do this. He absolutely could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeosang as Harley Quinn at the 2019 Halloween fansign event was **amazing**, but I had to have a Suicide Squad Joker, and have you *seen* *that* smile of Hongjoong's? Yup. Joker material!


	4. Who Is He? Post-midterms, Saturday night, Part 2.

San

Wooyoung seemed torn between a glare and a pout. San knew where his friend was looking: Yunho and Mingi, with a large group around them. Yunho could never act on the stage, but broadcasting majors were taught to keep their faces smooth, and emotions under control. He seemed delighted to share his Potter knowledge with everyone surrounding him. Mingi was bouncing back and forth to the music. Privately, he thought Wooyoung could be a more convincing Harry—height did not work in Yunho’s favor—but Wooyoung looked as frustrated and sulky as he felt. He understood. The silent treatment in the suite from Mingi was _unnatural_ , and it irritated him. Yunho was, as all the best news anchors today, trying to remain impartial, which meant no one was talking. He hoped the other two didn’t win. He couldn’t take much more. He yanked at his tie.

“The tie, too?” Wooyoung asked impatiently.

“Slytherins don’t care,’ he drawled back. “Aren’t you burning up, with that scarf knotted at your neck?”

“Yes. But I’m trying to convey Potter in winter.”

San swiped at his magic wand. Wooyoung jerked back with a frown, but then laughed.

“I wish Yeosang was here,” he said with a sigh.

“Why? He hates these things.”

“Because he’s funny. I could use a distraction.”

“Wooyoung, it’s not his job to amuse you.”

“Like he wouldn’t have taken one look at me, and them, and mocked us until I couldn’t breathe? That’s not a job, that’s just _him_.”

San thought about it. “Hehetmon sees a sign in front of closed doors. ‘Costume Party! Be creative!' Hehetmon opens the doors and stares blankly at a sea of Harry Potters.”

“He’d never publish that, but he’d describe it.” Wooyoung grinned.

The disappointment was fading, but even still…. “Do you want to leave?”

“Not yet. If they somehow win, I want warning. I don’t want Mingi pounding on my dorm door to announce it. Though…on the other hand, that would make Yeosang grumpy. And a grumpy Yeosang is not to be messed with.”

“Don’t act so happy at the thought. You’d be in the line of fire, too.”

“Me?”

“This all started when you dropped him from the group costume plan.”

“Was I supposed to tolerate all those remarks?”

That would have been impossible. He’d been almost angry, himself.

“No.” He undid the top button of his shirt.

“Are you going to entertain us all with a strip show? I guess that’s a Slytherin thing to do.” Wooyoung tapped his wand against his jaw.

“Why? Something you want to see?” he asked teasingly.

“Oh, yes. Absolutely. Everything. Get over yourself.”

“It’s _hot_ in here. Yunho’s robe is thicker than ours, how isn’t he sweating to death?” Maybe Mingi bouncing so much was creating a fan-like effect.

“He’s dedicated.” Wooyoung shrugged.

“The two of you aren’t even trying, are you?” spoke a cool voice.

San swirled around, delight filling him. “Seonghwa-hyung!” He looked him up and down. “A celebrity in disguise already?” He looked sleek, in his black suit. Probably from the pre-broadcast press conference.

“No,” the other said crisply, and drew his dark sunglasses down. “Bond. James Bond.”

Wooyoung broke into giggles.

“There’s still two episodes left of your show. How did you get permission to leave set?”

“San, you are too immersed in theater. Don’t you know the second lead is rarely relevant this close to the end? My scenes are done.”

“But you took the whole term off. Why come to campus?”

“I can’t miss this party. Is Hongjoong here yet?”

“Hyung? No. Haven’t seen him. What was he last year?”

“Jack Sparrow. Each year he surpasses himself. I am extremely curious to see this year’s choice.”

Wooyoung made a strangled, coughing sound.

“Do you need water?” Seonghwa asked immediately.

“Are you okay?” He bet it was the scarf.

Wooyoung shook his head violently, then held up his hands. “No. I mean. I’m okay. I think. It’s just. Them. At the doors.” He swallowed hard, eyes wide. “Look!”

If this was a prank, he’d chase Wooyoung around the entire hall. Impatiently, he turned to the room’s entrance, and froze. Who was that? Who was… _he_?

“Kim Hongjoong,” Seonghwa breathed, pulling his sunglasses off and tucking them into a coat pocket. “The Joker. He went all out. But so did his partner. Is he dating someone?”

“Not…not to my knowledge.” He couldn’t stop staring. Harley Quinn, a spectacularly beautiful, _male_ Harley Quinn, clung to Hongjoong’s arm, looking around the crowded room with interest. Briefly, his eyes met San’s, and he smiled faintly. Wow. _Who was he_? Hongjoong tapped his companion’s shoulder, and he twisted back to listen. Whatever was said, they started to move around the room.

“San. Earth to San.”

“What?” They’d stopped near a crowd of department sunbaenim dressed as vampires. Was it his imagination, or were some of them as spellbound as he felt?

“Jongho’s here.”

“That’s great.” Were they making the rounds so everyone could see their costumes? Surely Hongjoong would stop near them. He wasn’t dating him, was he? Did Hongjoong date men? He had no idea. Please let them not be dating.

“San,” Seonghwa’s voice said coaxingly. “Jongho met Hongjoong and…Harley in the hallway. He says they’re friends.”

“He what?” Startled, he looked around. Jongho was a few feet away, an amused smile on his face. “You met them?”

“Near the building entrance. I recognized hyung, of course. He makes a wicked Joker.”

“Who’s the guy with him?”

“A friend of his? Different department. Or was it a different college? I wasn’t paying attention. But when he heard about the party, he wanted to come along. He liked our film.” Jongho beamed at him.

“He did?” Different department—or a different college. There were thousands of people on campus, but at least he was a student. And just a friend. Good. “Wait, he saw our film, but this party’s not about that.”

“He knows. It’s why he’s in costume. Hongjoong-hyung told him he’d meet us here, though. We have a fan. Pretty cool, huh?”

Wanted to meet _them_? He searched the room—that wig certainly made it easy to find him—and felt privileged to witness them pass by a dazed, unmoving Mingi, and Yunho, shaking his head in bewilderment. _He_ was affecting _everyone_.

“Oh my God, San. Do you see that?” Wooyoung’s voice was gleeful. “Mingi and Yunho look totally stunned. No way they’re going to beat Joker and Harley. Would it be weird if I thanked them?”

“Inappropriate, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa said lightly, “and premature. Other people could come in and best the two of them, though I grant it’s unlikely. More importantly, you are not that familiar with Hongjoong, and none of us know his…companion.”

“Oh.” Wooyoung mumbled.

San looked back at Jongho. “What’s his name?”

“Ah, that’s funny. Hongjoong-hyung has gone all Method, and he’s only referring to him as Harley. No use trying to persuade him to tell—poor guy got laryngitis last night.”

“And he still came?” Seonghwa asked. “Is he infectious?”

“No,” Jongho assured him. “Hyung says not. Maybe part of his midterms required a lengthy presentation? I don’t know, and couldn’t ask. I suspect neither wanted to waste the costume opportunity.” He smiled again. “And just because he can’t speak doesn’t mean he can’t listen and gesture responses. I understood his appreciation just fine from that. Since he met me, now he’ll be looking for San-hyung.”

That’s why the other seemed to recognize him. But no name? He had to get his name.

“Snap out of it, San,” Seonghwa whispered to him. “He’s breathtaking, but the two of them are headed this way and unless you want to lose an actual fan, get yourself together.”

He nodded, and took a steadying breath. He glanced at their little group. Jongho looked calm, as always. Seonghwa looked intrigued. Wooyoung…something between excitement and awe. He hoped he didn’t look as lost as he felt.

Yeosang

Jongho had done an incredible job. This costume, the makeup, the wig. Mingi’s and Yunho’s reactions had nearly sent him into giggles, and only the severest self-control kept the bubbling amusement in check. He’d spotted Dracula, the shorter Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, and…was that Park Seonghwa? San’s co-star in Waiting for Godot? Wasn’t he shooting a drama right now? Huh. Hongjoong tugged on his arm and he looked back.

“Harley,” Hongjoong said quietly, pulling him to a stop.

_That_ had been a clever work-around. He hadn’t thought how to avoid sharing his name. He tapped Hongjoong’s hand, to let him know he was listening. Also a smart suggestion, to keep him mindful that the person he was tonight could not speak.

“Jongho, I’m sure, has told them we met him outside the hall. But don’t forget, you can’t show any sign you know Wooyoung, and you must pretend your awareness of San is limited. Seonghwa you’ll recognize from the drama.” He paused. “I know you didn’t want it mentioned, that you’d seen Waiting for Godot, but it would be a kindness to acknowledge it. Seonghwa—and San—loved every moment of that performance.”

Yeosang licked his lips. He could understand that. He’d always made sure to give Jongho detailed compliments on his performances, and, to a degree, had done the same for Wooyoung and his dancing, and San and his acting. If Park Seonghwa was just beginning his television career, he might be feeling uncertain. It was a big shift, from campus productions where he was praised and acknowledged to night shoots where he was very much the junior on set. Well. He didn’t have to _say_ anything. He lifted his hands and clapped them together, bowing his head at the same time. He looked back up and smiled at Hongjoong.

“You’re very expressive, even without words. No interest in switching majors?”

Yeosang crossed his arms and shook his head slowly.

“Can’t blame me for trying. Ready?”

Was he? This was the trickiest part. His _roommate_ was thirty feet away. He tapped the coat pocket where Hongjoong’s phone rested and held out a hand. He got a puzzled frown in return. Sighing, he pulled the lipstick from his pocket and tapped it against his mouth, then held out the other hand, again.

“Morale boost? And not, I think, a habit any of them have seen you do. Makes sense. Here you go.”

Hongjoong seemed almost telepathic sometimes. He accepted the phone, already in selca mode, and carefully opened the lipstick. Looking at himself in the camera reassured him. He looked nothing like the Yeosang the others knew. ‘Messy,’ Jongho had said. But not too much. With careful strokes, he reapplied the cosmetic, snapped the top back in place—and remembered to discreetly check his teeth. All good. He handed the phone back, slipped the lipstick into his pocket, and hooked an arm through Hongjoong’s. He lifted his head, and they strolled forward.

San

“Is it supposed to be that hot seeing him put on lipstick?” Wooyoung asked. The others looked at him. “What? _Anyone_ can look amazing with makeup, I know that. But putting it on, in the middle of a crowded room, totally oblivious of everyone? Just wouldn’t expect it to be hot. That’s all.” He shrugged.

Fantastic. Did he have competition from Wooyoung? He looked again at Harley, handing Hongjoong’s phone back to him. They were headed this way. He had no idea what to do. Just go with whatever happened, he guessed.

Hongjoong and Harley stopped in front of them.

“Hyung,” Jongho said brightly. “Your costumes and makeup, both of you, are really amazing.”

Harley covered his mouth, his shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Hongjoong raised both eyebrows. “Thank you. Again.”

“That much effort deserves compliments,” the youngest said sincerely.

Harley closed his eyes and shook his head, then stilled, eyes drifting lazily open. He drew his hand away from his mouth and blew a kiss to Jongho, who dropped eye contact quickly, his cheeks stained a dark red. Good God. San had never seen that happen to his fellow drama student.

Hongjoong’s devil grin—on point for the Joker—appeared. “He agrees with you, it seems. Did Jongho mention the laryngitis? It’s a shame. Harley really wanted to tell you both how much he enjoyed the film. He also caught the showing of Waiting for Godot, and was impressed by that, too. Formal introductions not being my thing tonight,” his grin flashed again, “this is Harley, my companion in crime. Harley, this is Park Seonghwa, Choi San, and Jung Wooyoung. Wooyoung’s a dancer.”

Harley nodded gravely at Wooyoung, then turned to Seonghwa and San. He spread his arms wide, to indicate them both, San thought? Then clapped gently and bowed his head to each in turn. It was sweet.

“Harley,” Seonghwa said hesitantly. “The informality does not offend you?”

He shook his head.

“Which do you prefer, film and television, or theater?”

Why on earth would he put a stranger on the spot like that? But Harley seemed unfazed. San watched him again spread his arms, stiffen his posture and raise a hand in classical theatrical style, then clap his hands and bow his head to each of them. Plays were approved of. Interesting. He shifted his body to face Seonghwa and pressed a hand to his heart, then let his shoulders fall in dejection. The second lead in the drama. He clapped his hands and bowed his head. He turned toward San, and cold boredom was in his face. He lifted his right hand and dragged his thumb across his throat. The psychopath in the film. Yet again, he clapped his hands and bowed his head. He looked at Seonghwa inquiringly.

“Why aren’t you in the drama school?” he demanded.

“I’ve asked him the same thing several times,” Hongjoong said. “He appreciates it, but has other academic interests and no desire to change fields.”

Seonghwa smiled and gave Harley a slight bow, which was returned. “Thank you for your compliments. Your costume is astounding. I hope the two of you win.” He nodded to them all, then strode towards a group of his peers, obviously waiting to pounce. Probably, San thought, they were hoping he could use his new connections to get them auditions.

“Ever thought about dance?” Wooyoung asked cheerfully.

Harley pointed at himself, tapped his wrist where a watch would be, and shook his head. Not enough time. He was good at this. Even Jongho had forgotten his embarrassment and was staring in admiration.

“What _do_ you study, then?” San asked. Could he at least find out which department the other belonged to?

Harley narrowed his eyes in thought. He cupped one hand, and with the other, mimicked plucking…plants? And putting each into his open hand. He paused and gestured toward the wand San had forgotten he still held. He immediately handed it over. Holding the wand, Harley stirred the...concoction? Potion? Whatever was in the open hand. But then he held up the wand and tapped his temple. He handed the wand back, then he was…typing on a computer? He paused and looked up in such a classic ‘lightbulb of an idea’ way that San couldn’t help laughing. He went back to typing, then stopped and spread his hands. Lots of different things, mixed together, ideas of his own….

“Interdisciplinary studies?” San guessed.

A slightly wider smile was his reward, which warmed him, even as he realized that someone with that self-designed major could be found in most any building on campus on any given day. He looked over at Hongjoong, who had been silent throughout the charades, and found him gazing thoughtfully at Harley. It made him feel uneasy.

“Harley,” came his gentle voice. The other man stepped toward the eldest among them. With the loss of his singular attention, everything felt dimmer. How very strange.

“He’s clever, isn’t he?” Wooyoung whispered.

“Yeah.”

“And gorgeous.”

“Yeah….”

He could see a bit of hair beneath the wig. Medium brown? That didn’t help much. His features were delicate beneath the makeup. The way he moved was fluid, but controlled. He had to be active in some sport or something—the gym alone wouldn’t explain it. He had graceful hands. He was funny and smart. Without his real name, those were all the facts at his disposal.

Someone tapped on a mic. San hated that noise. It was on or it was off. Just talk, and you’d find out.

“We have three categories for costume winners. Solo, couple, and group.”

San tuned out. He wasn’t interested. Jongho had been drawn into the conversation with Hongjoong and Harley. What were they talking about?

“The couple costume award goes to Kim Hongjoong, who recently directed two of our students in a film, and his partner? I don’t have a name here.”

Hongjoong and Harley quickly walked toward the far end of the room. More slowly, he and Wooyoung followed them.

Hongjoong reached the speaker and leaned toward him to whisper something.

“Really? That’s it? You don’t want your name announced?”

Harley shook his head.

This…really did feel odd, San thought. Wasn’t it a bit much, to avoid giving his full name, even now?

“Okay, then, the winners of the couple costume award are Kim Hongjoong and his companion in crime, Harley. Here’s your certificate.” The senior laughed as he handed over the slip of paper. The two winners bowed in thanks and retreated.

Harley’s eyes scanned the crowd again, and caught his. The slightly sad expression in them gave San a chill. He almost recognized it. But where? When? Wooyoung was cheering at their win—well, their win, and his suitemates’ loss. He wove through the groups of people as quickly as he could. The green hair was no longer near the blond. A feeling of panic seized him. Where was the blond? He stopped and searched the room. Harley was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you look online, you'll see most of the costumes described here, in the photos from the 2019 Halloween fansign. Obviously, I made some changes. :)


	5. Plot Twist. Sunday, early morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder for contact names in Yeosang's phone:  
> Jongho: LeadActor  
> Hongjoong: Unknown Number/NeverSleeps
> 
> Also, underlining indicates a switch to English, from Korean.

Yeosang’s alarm went off at 6:00 a.m., like it did every day. He grabbed his phone and silenced it. He still felt tired. Jongho had caught him soon after the win and hauled him out of the room and down the nearest stairs. Yeosang had overtaken him in the dash to the locker. Grabbing the bag and bolting to the restroom, he’d changed clothes so fast, the white jeans had ripped entirely. Everything had been flung into the nearest trash bin before he took off for the dorm, the hood of his black jacket drawn tightly around his face.

Tentatively, he patted his cheek, and winced. Makeup wipes were not _that_ effective at speed, and after the fourth had torn, he’d given up. Washing again in the shower had removed all traces, but his skin had hurt. He’s stolen some of Wooyoung’s skin emulsion. He hadn’t been sure if it would help or not, but his roommate swore by it. He guessed it was good. It no longer felt like he’d face-planted on concrete, just tender. Did it look bad? That would get questions! He put his phone on selca mode and peered into it. He looked normal. Or close enough. He closed the app, and was startled to see the number of text notifications. Who was sending messages this early? No…who had sent them so late, after the adrenaline had faded and he’d collapsed into bed?

**Unknown Number:**  
Yeosang-ssi, this is Kim Hongjoong. Jongho gave me your number.  
I dislike interfering, but though you put on a spectacular act,  
I had the impression you wished to stay anonymous.  
It’s awkward to write like this, but thinking it through,  
it seemed best to send you a warning.  
After you left, San tried to persuade me to give him your  
real name, or at least convey a message to you.  
He was very…set. It took some time to make him understand  
I was no matchmaker. If I misunderstood, I’m sure there’s  
a natural way of letting him know it was you.  
If otherwise, it seemed unfair not to give you  
a better chance of keeping your secrets.  
I wish you luck and fortune.  
You truly were marvelous tonight.

The last message had been sent at 3:16 a.m. He glanced over at the other bed. Wooyoung slept on, his still-dark hair half-hidden by blankets. He looked back at the texts. Not ones he wanted to keep on his phone, but who knew when that number might come in handy? He saved it as ‘NeverSleeps,’ then deleted the conversation. With some worry, he opened the messages from Jongho, the first sent at 11:43 p.m.

**LeadActor:**  
This? This! This is what they call an unexpected plot twist.  
I was sure people would notice you.  
I looked forward to it. I admit that.  
I did _not_ _ever_ expect San to be…enthralled.  
You must be asleep.  
Why do you have to use Do Not Disturb at night?  
I’d have texted you earlier, but it didn’t  
seem safe to do until I got home.  
I know, it sounds crazy, but they’re _on a mission_.  
And there I was, lying to them.  
I came back to see San arguing with Hongjoong-hyung.  
Soon as I heard ‘Harley,’ I snuck close to listen.  
He got shut down, but then he and the rest  
found a corner where they were _not_ loud.  
Which is unnerving.  
They noticed me, and I was pulled in. Literally.  
Because I’d supposedly met you before they did,  
_and_ San had seen me talking to you and hyung  
before the award was announced,  
they thought I might have ideas.  
Or clues. About Harley.  
What was I gonna say?  
That _I_ planned the costumes?  
That the guy San was so fascinated by, he was making  
a _list_ of everything he’d noticed so he could try  
to find him, that _that_ guy is someone he sees  
almost _daily_? That the guy who made him laugh  
with the miming is the same one who draws webtoons  
with no dialogue? That the beautiful—yes, you are, you  
can’t stop me saying it because you’re asleep—guy  
who made him nearly non-verbal is roommates  
with his best friend, _even likes him back_ , though   
you’ll never _say anything_ , so it’s just a huge damn MESS?  
I had to lie, shove them off-track as best I could,  
say I was clueless—but then still listen to their theories,  
and Yeosang, they are _all_ in on it.  
So, hell, that part of the plan worked!  
They’re all getting along fine, trying to help San  
find Harley freaking Cinderella.  
I’m sorry.  
I just read what I sent. I sounded angry.  
I’m not. Not at you. The situation?  
I’m too tired to think straight.  
Your heart is so _good_ , and though I teased,  
this wasn’t supposed to happen.  
I was supposed to help you feel safe.  
And now…  
Call me when you’ve read this.  
Or when you want to.  
I understand.

Yeosang curled up in a ball under the covers. It was normal for Jongho to ignore honorifics when it was just them. It felt so weird when he was careful about it, he preferred the absence. But for him to be rattled enough he switched to English, and _ranted_? Even _bigger_ , of course, the _reasons_ why Kim Hongjoong and Jongho had texted him. What he’d set out to do, he’d done. That was good. But now there was a damn mess: that transformative costume, how he’d let himself play the role until the end, when he’d been about to leave, and he’d just wanted to look San in the eyes one final time, safe in the disguise. Now he’d have to be on guard against people he saw regularly. Would the group chat talk about it? Harley Quinn. As if he was real. This, he thought fiercely, is exactly why he’d made sure his feelings were hidden. Last night’s _persona_ had appealed to San. Not him. It wouldn’t ever be him. What could they have put together to make a _list_? What kind of plans were they making? He had to find out. He’d have to be wary and cautious, but not change how he acted, had to seem normal. No other way through the mess but forwards.

***

When he had moved back to Seoul, he’d at first been delighted to find there was a parkour studio, but classes took up so much time, it was impossible. The university had admitted him on his portfolio of illustrations and his webtoon, but the major was cartoon and animation. The second field was more complex, and he’d spent hours in the department computer lab, coding. By his second term, he’d felt more capable, but nearing burn-out. It hadn’t helped that his previous roommate had graduated and Wooyoung had swept into his life. He needed breaks.

He started with early morning runs at the gym, then slowly added in weight machines and free weights, and the one piece of home equipment he’d always used at Jongho’s, during high school: the power tower. Pull-ups, push-ups, dips, knee raises—you had to have strength and control to swing from bar to bar, to do vaults and precision jumps, to manage wall climbs and drops. Even if he couldn’t practice any of those, his muscle memory kicked in, and lightness returned to his mind and body.

The stress of this morning’s messages had propelled him out the door as swiftly and quietly as possible, but to be stuck inside any building was an intolerable thought. He took public transport to the Han River, and stretched in the cool air. Everything he absolutely needed was tucked into his running belt, though he’d turned off his phone. For a little while, he wanted to be unreachable.

He ran and ran, until his legs began to ache. Too much. He slowed to a halt in a grassy area, and drained the energy gel stored in the belt pouch, tucking it back in to dispose of later. He stretched again, then stared at the river, memories tumbling into understanding. The itch in his throat reappeared and pushed him toward the nearest water fountain.

When he got back to campus, Wooyoung would be in the dance building, practicing. He’d have time to eat and shower, and get his head in the game. That’s what it was, after all. A high-stakes game. Harley Quinn wasn’t real, but he didn’t know what they’d pieced together. San didn’t give up easily, and him recruiting Mingi…. Mingi and his one-track mind when he’d decided on something. Two different kinds of threats to counteract. Kim Hongjoong didn’t worry him. It had been kind to send a warning. Which reminded him…he ought to call Jongho. He ought to turn his phone back on and see what, if anything, awaited him. Back at the dorm, he decided. When he felt more like himself.

***

Jongho

What to do. Yeosang had called him hours ago, but he’d been terse, almost unemotional. Not what he’d expected. It worried him so much he couldn’t focus on his assignments. He’d say that, if asked.

“Yes?”

“What are you doing now?”

“I just ate lunch. Working on a project. Why are you calling?”

“There’s still nothing on the group chat?”

“No. Stop worrying about it. I have. If he was that _fascinated_ by Harley Quinn’s appearance? It has nothing to do with me. It’s shallow. I can handle shallow.”

Oh, boy.

“San-hyung isn’t shallow,” he said carefully.

“Oh, _now_ you’re going to be formal?” Yeosang snapped.

Not unemotional.

“You’re mad. I get it. But you know he’s not like that. You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t like him, if he was.”

“I guess I was wrong, then. I’ve never dated anyone, remember? What would I know?”

Yeosang puncturing egos was one thing. Hearing him like this was another. He puffed out a breath.

“Am _I_ shallow then? I don’t even remotely like you that way, but when you _blew a kiss at me_ , I couldn’t keep eye contact.” Which had been embarrassing. “And you did that deliberately,” he added.

**“** That was…that was payback for telling Kim Hongjoong more than he needed to know.”

“Really? That was the reason?” Keep it lightly dubious, Jongho.

No response. Then he wouldn’t say anything, either. He’d just wait.

“You kept bragging on your own abilities, and I thought it’d shut you up.”

“So, your immediate idea to get me to shut up was to blow a kiss at me. Of all the people not related to you by blood on this entire planet, _I_ ought to have been unswayed—and yet! Does that make me shallow?”

He heard an exasperated sound.

“Don’t spin it like that. It was spur of the moment. I was in character. The costume was brilliant, the makeup was brilliant, they made it easy to slip into a role. I was just _playing a role_ , the whole night. It wasn’t me. None of it was me.”

“If all of last night was an act, you’re depriving the world of a great actor.”

“I am not. It was one night, to make sure we won. I’m not able to do that regularly and you know it.”

“You’re wrong. You do it all the time. You know exactly how to capture attention and hold it—you wouldn’t have readers, otherwise.”

“That’s my webtoon, not me.”

He rubbed his forehead. Yeosang could out-stubborn stubborn.

“ _You_ create it, every week. You know what will draw people in and what won’t. And what you create is so much like you. Same sense of humor, same awareness, same ability to make people curious and interested—for the webtoon, to read more, for you, to learn more. That’s _you_. It was different in the States—”

He halted. Middle school had been hell on them both, but he had no illusions who’d had it worse.

“But that was there, and then. Here, when you’re confident? It’s not shallow that people react. It’s _normal_. It wasn’t just San. It wasn’t just me. It was Wooyoung, too. I won’t repeat what he said—him being your roommate, it might freak you out—but trust me, he noticed the confidence. You stood out to him. And how could you miss the way Mingi and Yunho briefly lost all coherence? Those are only the people you know. Other people were watching you, _curious_ about you.”

“You did an incredible job with the costume and the makeup.”

He sounded so stiff.

“I appreciate the compliments you keep giving me. I do. But listen, will you? You walked into that room as if you owned it. You made people smile and laugh. You made sure they felt appreciated. You connected with them, and San? He was captivated by all of it. The more I think about it, the less surprising it is. You, the whole you? You’re wonderful. Being attracted to that is the opposite of shallow. So what if how you looked is what first caught his eye? That’s _how you look_. It isn’t what held his attention.”

“No, it was me, as Harley Quinn. Which was me following your excellent suggestion to not give a shit about anyone but Joker. Compare Harley of last night to me, right now? Or even me, a month ago? He was never attracted _to me_. It was last night’s package. The whole thing, so, okay, he’s not shallow. But that whole person doesn’t exist.”

“Yeosang—”

“Stop it. He cannot find out the truth. The disappointment…I couldn’t handle seeing that. Expectation versus reality. I _cannot_.”

“Why are you so sure he’d be disappointed?”

“Because it isn’t the real me he’s looking for! The real me, who’s in love with him? No!”

“ _What_?”

“Shit. You’re not going to pretend you didn’t hear that, are you?”

“ _No_! What the hell? When? When did you go from a crush to…? _When_?”

“I don’t know. Just…standing near the river this morning, I was thinking back to when I first met him. Same semester you enrolled. I went back to the dorm after dinner with you, and there he was. How many drama students take a dance class? Doesn’t matter. He did. He was a bit shyer back then, remember?”

He spoke so quietly, Jongho strained to hear him.

“Thinner, too. But all I clearly recall is walking into that room, and there was so much laughter and smiles and happiness, He kept coming by, every week, so I got used to him. Him and Wooyoung. When they went out on group dates or wherever, I was relieved by the quiet, but it was weird. It was like that for months and months. I sat next to him at Wooyoung’s first showcase performance. Nothing special. He was just there. Then you took me to see the play, and I was so very impressed, I figured it had to be a crush. I’ve seen enough television to know what those look like. I sound dumb, don’t I?’

“No.”

“Hm. It was impossible. Him being him, and me being me. Crushes fade, though, and it would. Then last night, right after we won, I looked back, and saw Wooyoung happy again, and that was wonderful. San was next to him. Looking at me. I had to leave. I saw you coming toward me. It was all over, so I just…looked back at him for a second. It hurt. He’d never look at me like that again. But this morning, I learned _he_ had a crush on a person I portrayed. That hurt more. That he’d pester other people, make up theories and plans, all to find someone I was not, but had briefly been. That’d be like me only being interested in him for his performances. But I know him. I’ve always known it was him. I don’t know when it changed, just that I realized today it _had_. I guess it was gradual, though maybe given a big push when I saw the play. His smile after it, how proud he was, that was marvelous, you know?”

Could he point out that the two situations were not entirely different? No matter what his friend said, all the costume did was give him freedom, to be himself, to push his own boundaries a little. It wasn’t the separate identity he insisted it was. If he walked into any room, with that same confidence and ease, Jongho was fairly certain a stir would be made. No one thought the wig real, or the make-up natural, or the costume any sort of regular clothes. San didn’t want to find someone dressed up like that, he wanted to find the person. But he didn’t know what the other felt. Sudden attraction, he could buy that. A crush, he could believe that, and did. Those could lead to more. But beginning with such an imbalance? Much as he wished for it, there was no way Yeosang could suddenly change. It could confuse San, the others would find out, and his best friend could end up heartbroken.

“What can I do to help?”

He heard a long, unsteady exhale of breath and his grip on the phone tightened. No one was going to make Yeosang cry again. He’d promised that years ago.

“Don’t give me away. It might get strange or uncomfortable for a while, because no matter what, we have to act like we know nothing.”

“But how will you…how can you possibly stay in the same dorm, now that you’ve…realized?”

“I can’t. But I can’t leave abruptly. I’ll let the housing office know I won’t be returning next term. I’ll tell Wooyoung after finals. Would you, um, let me stay at your house, once break starts? I’ll look for a studio apartment, but I don’t know how long it will take.”

He cleared his throat.

“Yeosang-hyung.”

He heard a faint laugh.

“What?”

“The extra bedroom is yours for as long as you need it. If you want a studio apartment, go for it. But if you stayed, I’d have a reason to buy a bigger television for the living room.”

“You can’t even say it.”

“That I’d like a crisper image for dramas?”

“I miss seeing you more often, too.”

No, no, no. Not sweet Yeosang. He was too close to emotional overload to cope with that.

“There is that,” he said briskly. “All in all, a good plan, right?”

“Yeah. Just have to make it through finals.”

“Since we’re in planning mode, what will you do, about the others, once you’re off-campus?”

“Well, the only two I see regularly are Wooyoung and San, as the roommate, and the best friend’s roommate, respectively. I think when I’m no longer right there, it’ll just…fade.”

“The group chat?”

“I think that’ll just fade, too. Not the chat, I mean. More like, expecting me to participate. I don’t go out that much, so, you know….”

He sighed. This was the only downside to Yeosang not living in the dorm.

“Promise me you’ll try to become closer to some people in your department? You’ve got to have other friends.”

“I promise.”

“Okay. We’ll make it through this. We’ll be careful, and make it through this.”

“That’s the plan.”


	6. Without a Glass Slipper. Wednesday evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder for contact IDs in this chapter:  
> Yeosang: Me  
> San: Mountain  
> Wooyoung: PinguDances  
> Mingi: Lumiere  
> Yunho: NewsAt6

Yeosang glanced up when the dorm room door opened. Just Wooyoung again. Good, but strange. He hadn’t even seen San since the party Saturday night. Better for him, of course. He watched Wooyoung flop face-down on his bed, then returned his attention to his library book on human anatomy. His midterm grade for body mechanics and acting had been acceptable, but his professor had suggested he focus on what the human body could actually do. Life drawing his first year had only taught so much, it made sense to him to study _how_ muscles and ligaments and joints moved.

“Yeosang?” came a muffled voice.

“Yeah?”

“Am I a good person?”

Yeosang dropped his pen and spun around, frowning.

“I cannot have heard that correctly.”

Slowly, Wooyoung pushed himself into a seated position.

“I asked if I’m a good person.”

“Of course, you are.”

“You say that, but…what proof is there?”

“When you moved in last year, the very first weekend, even though I didn’t want to go with you, you took me to the nicest nearby sauna as a treat.”

“You didn’t want to go. How was that nice?”

Okay. Poor phrasing on his part. He sighed.

“We didn’t go to saunas that often when I was a kid. Too busy. Then six years in America…,” he shrugged.

“You came back for visits.”

“To see as many family members as we possibly could each trip. Everyone near my age was still in school and had activities. When I was told to go away to let the grown-ups talk, I just…went to my room and read books. My mother wasn’t going to let me use up precious luggage space with my skateboard.”

Wooyoung perked up a little. “You have a skateboard?”

“Not here. I didn’t think I’d have the time, and I could only bring so much to college.”

“You could have bought a new one.”

“Time. I started in the fall, remember? Most everyone knew what they were doing, except transfers and international students. Maybe there were a handful of Koreans like me, returned from abroad, but it isn’t like we formed a support group.” As if he would have attended such a thing, even if it existed. “I had to catch up and _do well_. It isn’t easy to persuade your parents to let you major in the arts.”

“No….” Wooyoung’s voice trailed off.

“I didn’t want to go to the sauna because I didn’t know what to do, as an adult. In the U.S., at least where we lived, there’s nothing like them. There were spas, but they’re entirely different. No boys went, and very few men. And here you were, all bright and bubbly and excited to be in college, wanting to spend time _with me_ , and I had to look up online guides written for foreigners. No way was I calling a cousin or an uncle.”

“You could have just asked me.”

“I had just met you. I didn’t want to seem weird. That’s why I said no, which didn’t work. I mostly figured it out. I think.”

“That explains a lot.”

“Like what?” Yeosang asked warily.

“Nothing really worth repeating. Just little things.”

“Hm. Still, even though I was reluctant, you went out of your way to get to know me. You didn’t have to.”

“I would have made the same offer to any roommate.”

“It’s still kind. And when you came back from visits home, you brought food to share. That’s also kind. And, no, it doesn’t matter that you’d have done that for any roommate.”

“I wouldn’t have.”

“What?”

“My mom’s a great cook. I wouldn’t have shared if I didn’t like you.”

“Oh. Well, you did share. And when you found out I drew webtoons, you went through the entire backlog online. Since I started in high school, that’s a lot. You spent part of your free time learning about me. You made efforts. More than I did. So, yes, you’re a good person. Did someone say something, to make you doubt that?”

“No. I just…it’s only been three days, and I’m already tired of trying to find one person out of thousands. It’s important to San, so I shouldn’t even want to give up, but I do! All the photos Mingi keeps sending the chat, all the speculations from Yunho, San brushing them all aside, and I’m trying not to look like a creep, side-eyeing everyone sort of near my size and build, with brownish hair. It’s impossible.”

Ah. They did have a separate chat. He was glad he didn’t have to see it. How much should he reveal he knew?

“You’re trying to find someone for San?”

“Well, yeah. Didn’t Jongho tell you?”

“He said a guy dressed as Harley Quinn came with Kim Hongjoong, dressed as the Joker, and they won the couple costume. Oh, and the four of you dragged him into a discussion about the guy’s real identity. That San wanted to figure it out.”

“That’s all he said?”

“Was there more he needed to say?”

“I guess not. You weren’t there, so you didn’t see.”

“At least now I know why the group chat’s been quiet. You formed a separate one, and you’ve been, what, playing detective together?”

Wooyoung looked stricken. “Did you think we were ignoring you?”

“No. I’d have thought the fight had continued, but the four of you together at the party made that illogical. That left all of you failing your exams—”

“You’re mean.”

“I work with the information I’m given. You were all of you distracted during mid-terms, because of…very unfortunate comments. It seemed possible. Also possible was all of you being busy.” He smiled. “The group chat being quiet has been good timing. Otherwise, I’d have been tempted to stop reading this useful but boring book. How _do_ biology majors and medical students stay awake, if everything is written like this?”

“Like what? A science book?”

“A drier than dust book on human anatomy I’m reading to understand how the body moves. For drawing purposes.”

“Hehetmon isn’t human.”

“I do draw other things. One has to, in animation.”

“You turn to a book?” Wooyoung scoffed. “Hello? You’re living with a dance major. Everything about me is body movement.”

“You’d spend some of your free time posing for me?”

“Sure. The others would, too. You’ve read parts with San, you’ve let Yunho practice his English with you, and Mingi…well, he’d be happy being asked.”

“I refuse to ask Mingi to sit for a life drawing. He would assume I meant nude. To avoid insult, I’d have to draw that. All of that. Why would I do that to myself?” he asked in a pained voice.

Wooyoung grinned. “Then not Mingi.”

“I can’t ask everyone else, and not Mingi. He’d be hurt.”

“Sometimes, I forget how nice you can be.”

“Nevermind.” Yeosang turned his chair back around and picked up his pen.

“Hey! I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s fine. Being evil with occasional bursts of kindness is the hallmark of kings. Thank you for implying I have royal ancestry.”

“You—well, you _do_ kind of look like the third or fourth or sixth prince in a sageuk. Delicate features, the way you hold your head. Actually…hm.”

Yeosang’s heart rate sped up slightly.

“Could you draw someone, from a description?”

“Why do you ask?” he sighed, keeping his focus on his book.

“Just things San noticed about Harley Quinn. You don’t know how weird it is, talking about this person with no name, all of us saying Harley this and Harley that.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” But I really need to know, he added silently.

“It can’t hurt to tell you. Maybe the guy’s in your department, or your college. The whole artist eye thing, too.”

You can do this. You can do this. You have to do this. He held his breath and quietly let it out. Then turned his chair back around.

“So, tell me, how much of Clark Kent did San notice beneath the Superman suit?”

“Harley Quinn’s with Joker, and Joker is a Batman villain. Shouldn’t you know that?”

“Drawing webtoons, reading manga, watching anime—none of that is the same as being up to date on comic books.”

“Yeah, but the movies.”

“Wooyoung,” he said warningly.

“All right! Hold on.” He grabbed his phone. “We all wrote down his list. Here it is. Harley: close to Wooyoung’s height, slighter build, looks like he goes to a gym.” Wooyoung looked at Yeosang. “He does. He wasn’t, you know, like San or Jongho, but the way that costume fit him, wow.”

Okay, Jongho had been right. Wooyoung had noticed, too.

“Brown-ish hair—San said he could see a little beneath the blond wig. Delicate facial features—looking at you with the whole prince remark reminded me of the list. Graceful hands—yeah, I know, not super helpful, but it rules out people with short, stubby fingers. And the way he moved. I noticed that one, too! I thought he might take dance classes, but I can’t stare at my fellow students. I don’t need or want that attached to my name.”

“So, he’s, what, an arts major?”

“I don’t think so? He did this charades thing—didn’t Jongho tell you that?”

“The only thing more tiresome than going to parties is hearing them described. Jongho knows me well.”

“You really dislike parties.”

“I’d rather make a detailed outline of this anatomy book.”

“Weird. Anyway! I don’t know if he really did have laryngitis or if Hongjoong-hyung was just having fun at our expense, but _Harley_ supposedly couldn’t talk. He used pretty clever miming to respond to questions. When San asked him what he studied, it _seemed_ like he was trying to say he was an interdisciplinary major.”

“Sounds like a stretch. Even if it’s true, it could mean anything.”

“I know,” Wooyoung said glumly.

“Wait a second. You said Mingi was sending photos to this other chat? Who’s he taking pictures of?”

“Every male student he sees on campus with a shorter and slighter build, who has brownish hair.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No.”

“That’s invasion of privacy. He could get in trouble.”

“Oh, shit. Hold on.” Wooyoung changed apps on his phone and rapidly typed and sent a message.

“What did you say?”

“That you said taking pictures of people without permission would get the cops involved.”

“That isn’t what I said!”

[Catch-99]

**NewsAt6:**  
If he posted them online, then there could be problems.  
Just taking them isn’t illegal.

**Me:**  
I didn’t say it was.  
But the right of privacy isn’t well-defined.  
It’s why we use mosaics so much.  
We’re in the same college, we took that same class.  
The cops _could_ be called, and it would be annoying.

**NewsAt6:**  
But he isn’t posting them.  
Wait.  
Mingi?

**Me:**  
Oh, hell.

 **Lumiere** :  
…  
Yes?  


**NewsAt6:**  
You were joking about setting up a CinderQuinn website, right?  


**Me:**  
CinderQuinn?

**PinguDances:**  
That’s cute!

**Mountain:**  
Why are we discussing this in this chat?  
Oh. Sorry, Yeosang.  
That sounded rude.

**Me:**  
I’m an evil king.  
I am unbothered.

**PinguDances:**  
I didn’t say that!

**Lumiere:**  
I can see it.

**Me:**  
Sigh. Does the website already exist?

**Lumiere:**  
I’ll take it down!

**Mountain:**  
Why would you make one in the first place??

**Lumiere:**  
Wooyoung kept complaining about the chat being spammed.

**PinguDances:**  
It’s my fault you could get us in jail?!

**Me:**  
High dive, Mingi. High dive.  
Check the pool first.

**Mountain:**  
Stay away from the pool.

**Me:**  
Good luck with that.

“How did you know he’d already set up a website?”

“I declared myself a king. He didn’t immediately fight to be a princess. Suspicious.”

**Mountain:**  
Okay. I’m glad that’s no longer an issue.  
But why—why am I asking this?  
Of course, Wooyoung told you.

**Me:**  
Only a little bit.

**PinguDances:**  
I thought he might be able to sketch what CinderQuinn looks like.

**Me:**  
Do you really want to type that out, over and over again?

**PinguDances:**  
Ugh. No. Harley.

**Me:**  
Unless you’ve got more information than  
what Wooyoung told me, a sketch  
would be impossible.

**PinguDances:**  
You could’ve mentioned that.

**Me:**  
I didn’t have a chance—the group chat popped back to life.  
Well. This group chat.

**NewsAt6:**  
We did sort of disappear on you.  
I’m sorry.

**Me:**  
It’s fine. I’ve had work.

“Wooyoung, do not you _dare_ mention the anatomy book and your volunteer offer.”

**Me:**  
And I wasn’t there, so I get it.  
But this guy went full-out, it seems?

**Lumiere:**  
God, yes.  
Fishnets.  
Tight jeans.  
Wig.  
Flawless makeup.

**Me:**  
Mingi!  
Website.

**Lumiere:**  
Right.

**Mountain:**  
Can you just…not, Mingi?

Why did _San_ seem uncomfortable with the description? It was accurate. Really uncomfortable to hear a friend so enthused, but…accurate.

**Me:**  
I got the picture.  
Even if I specialized in the human face,  
which I don’t, it would be difficult  
to draw this person as he is,  
when all you saw was him made up.  
Think about San in _Waiting for Godot_.  
If you described him with that old man  
look, he could be drawn like that,  
but the sketch wouldn’t resemble  
everyday San.

**PinguDances:**  
Well, damn.

**Mountain:**  
It was a thought, Wooyoung.

**Lumiere:**  
Website’s gone.

**NewsAt6:**  
Good!

**Me:**  
Glad of that. Good luck on the search.  
I’ve got studying to return to.

Yeosang lightly threw his phone onto his bed and stretched. Did it count as a good luck wish if, at the same time you typed it, you were loudly declaring in your head the exact opposite? But it wouldn’t have looked normal if he hadn’t wished him luck. Probably?

“How do you want me to pose?”

“What?”

Wooyoung slid off his bed and slowly turned in a circle.

“How should I pose?”

“Now?”

“You said the book was boring. And you can’t draw 3-D from a page, can you?”

“Well, no, but right now?”

“ _I’m_ bored.”

“Oh.” Yeosang laughed. “Not…not about me. Because _you’re_ …you’re bored. That is…so you. Hold up. I need my tablet. _Don’t_ look at me like that! I’ll just laugh again. Okay, okay.” He settled onto his bed. “I know you do contemporary dance, but it’s basic body movement I need, like…”

“Basic five positions. Arms or feet?”

“Arms, I think? I can sketch my own hands and feet, but elbows to shoulders? I’m not a pretzel. Can you go through the movements, and then one by one, for me to do rough sketches?”

“Sure.” Wooyoung started to tug off his shirt. “Front, sideways, back—which angle?”

Yeosang narrowed his eyes. “Different muscle groupings, so all. Quick sketches, I promise.”

“Artistic types,” the other grumbled. “Okay, I’ll run through the five positions slowly. First position.”

“That looks like it’d be a difficult position to hold for a long time. Huh.”

“Holding any position for too long becomes a strain. And it’s unnatural. Dance is movement. Second position.”

“Is that one easier? Wait. Can you turn around and repeat going from first to second so I can see the muscle shifts? Thank you. Oh…okay, I see the lines in that. That transition is beautiful.”

“Thank you. Forward-facing again, third position.”

“Is it easier to have one arm open and the other bent, or does it matter?”

“Doesn’t matter. Fourth position.”

“How do you not lift your shoulder up when you do that?”

“Practice. Fifth position.”

“Like you’re holding something delicate, high above the ground. Hmmm. I’d never realized the combinations involved. I think I just need to sketch third and fourth positions, but from all three angles. That okay?”

“It’s fine. Third position.”

Yeosang picked up his stylus and tilted his head back and forth. Wrist, elbow, shoulder, it all flowed. He began to sketch.

“Though…” Wooyoung paused. “It might get boring if it’s just quiet.”

“So little patience. Be glad I’m not a fine art major. Then I’d ask you to sit _just so_ for over an hour.”

“Would not happen.”

“No? What if I sang Baby Shark?”

“You’d never.”

“What if I _did_?”

“Nope.”

“Hm. What if I walked on the roof of a building on campus?”

“You’d be arrested.”

“Pretend that wouldn’t happen. If I climbed up to the rooftop of a building on campus, using, oh, just trees and windowsills, and then walked around the roof?”

“Quit making things up.”

Yeosang smiled. “Turn sideways so I can see the curve of the arm? Huh. Fascinating.”

“Are you serious?”

“About what?”

“The building and the rooftop?”

“I’m not a fine art student, so I won’t need you to sit for over an hour, so I guess you’ll never know. Okay. Just needed a little bit for that. Turn—wait, when you turn, can you go from second to third position? Oh, thank you!”

This was what he hadn’t been able to capture. No way he could see the muscles in his own shoulder, and definitely not in his own back. When an animated human threw or caught something, or when they were walking or dancing, all these little movements he hadn’t quite been able to get. He could see them now. Relief filled him. His final would be so much better. Finals….no, don’t think about them. Enjoy this while it lasts, he told himself firmly.

“Perfect. Got that one. Fourth position?”

With more grace than he’d before appreciated in his roommate, Wooyoung pivoted to face him and raised his arm to fourth position. Wow. Just wow. He did a series of abbreviated sketches.

“What does it look like when done incorrectly?”

The other raised an eyebrow, but let his shoulder rise, then…it looked like a physical force was pressing it back into place. From slack to complete control. Incredible. He drew a tiny figure in the incorrect position, to remember it.

“Sideways?”

“No more talking?”

“We’re almost done.”

“You’re faster than I thought.”

“Practice,” Yeosang shot back at him.

Wooyoung laughed.

There was a knock on the door.

Yeosang paused, and looked at their clock in puzzlement. Wooyoung was already at the door, opening it to…San. Well, hell. He looked back down. Act normal. Nothing has changed. You hid the crush. You can hide this. Finish your sketching, then go back to the book. With headphones. He frowned at the half-finished sideways fourth position.

“Wooyoung, could you do the sideways angle, but more like…a three-fourths shift? Then that and the back angle and I’m done.” He looked up with a cheerful smile pinned to his face. “Oh. San.”

San looked from him to Wooyoung.

“Um?”

“I’m being immortalized,” Wooyoung said breezily. “Just sit and wait. Or watch. Whichever.”

Yeosang blinked at him. “With talk like that, you don’t need clothing. You wear conceit like a cloak.”

“ _Artists_.”

“ _Dancers_.”

Wooyoung stuck his tongue out, but resumed fourth position.

“Three-fourths?”

“Yeah, thanks. Ah, okay, I can see the lines better now.”

“So, what, really, is going on here?” San asked.

“Yeosang was reading the most hideous book on human anatomy—”

“Improving my mind and understanding.”

“To do better when drawing the human form. I pointed out he didn’t need the damn book when his roommate’s a dancer. I offered to pose, he accepted. That’s all. But don’t tell the others. He doesn’t want to draw Mingi.”

“If he would stay _clothed_ , it would be fine, but you _know_ he wouldn’t, and you _know_ he’d want to see what I’d drawn and, just, NO.”

San’s mouth twitched. “That would be a difficult experience to return from,” he said seriously.

“Impossible,” Yeosang said vehemently. “Okay, back angle. Oh, could you go from third to fourth? Like with second to third? Thank you. The shoulder being pressed down isn’t natural, but I can see _how_ you’re doing it, now, and I can make that work in the future.” He sighed. “I wish I’d thought of this before the mid-term. Oh, well.”

“Would you have asked me?”

Yeosang kept drawing during the brief silence.

“Probably not.”

“You’re exasperating.”

“I’ve been told that before. There. Done. File saved.”

Wooyoung dropped his arm, turned, and gave Yeosang a calculating look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Was I loud this whole time?”

“No,” he said cautiously.

“Was I helpful?”

“Yes.”

“Then…can I get a massage, like Jongho did?”

He beamed at Yeosang, who stared back at him incredulously.

“You manipulative brat! You _planned_ to ask this.”

“Does it count as planning if it only occurred to me a few minutes ago?”

“If you spoke it, after thinking it, yes. Stop the puppy look. Stop it.”

He should say no. This was bound to feel awkward. Except he never felt awkward around Wooyoung. But San was there. His gaze shifted to the wall between the two. But after finals, he'd rarely see either of them, and nothing like this night would ever happen again. Even though it hadn’t lasted long, it had been fun. Almost like laughing with Jongho when he railed against the fish kisses in dramas. And he had promised, ages ago, that he’d do this, if Wooyoung would just be quieter…and again…in less than two months, he’d be fading out of his life, and San’s life, and so….

“Yeosang?”

“Hm?” He looked back at a troubled Wooyoung.

“It was just a sudden thought. I didn’t have it in mind when I offered to help, I promise. Forget I said it?”

“No…no, I’m okay.” He smiled at him, then flicked his gaze to San, who was staring at him with…puzzlement?

“How can you be okay when you looked sad?” San asked.

“I…I was reminded of something. I spaced out. Truly, I’m okay. You did help me, Wooyoung. I’ll do better on my final exam in that class now. But because you just sprung this on me, as opposed to asking earlier, it’ll just be…ten minutes.”

“I don’t—”

“Wooyoung, there are two things you need to know. One is that American-style massage is _very_ different from Korean-style. No one in the spas there cares about your health or your overall well-being. It’s targeted. What I know how to do I learned because my mother liked the spa massages—it was better than nothing, she said—but she didn’t like the prices. So, she ordered me books and I taught myself. Two, I’m good at it. If you don’t dislike it, you’re going to be annoyed it’s only ten minutes, which would serve you right.”

“If you’re _sure_.”

“Yes." Yeosang pointed at the floor. “You sit there. I’ll sit on my bed behind you. Not ideal, but it’ll work.”

The frown gone from San’s face, he leaned back against the wall, on Wooyoung's bed, and watched with curiosity.

“Sit up straight, dancer! Thank you. Now relax, but don’t slump. There.” Yeosang leaned forward and pressed his fingertips to the base of Wooyoung’s skull and gently slid them down his neck. Nothing, nothing….he traced out to the shoulders and, oh, lots of tension. Not surprising. “San?”

“Yeah?”

“Set a timer for ten minutes.” Yeosang _tried_ to keep the mischief out of his face, but he didn’t think he’d succeeded when a glint appeared in San’s eyes before he silently followed instructions.

“Just relax, Wooyoung, okay? It’s all right if you hate it.” And with that final warning, he set to work. Within a minute, he was holding back laughter as his roommate’s head drooped forward. Press and smooth, knead the muscles as if they were dough, his mother had said. He swept his palms up, then pushed outwards from the neck to the shoulder blades. Again and again he repeated the pattern.

“You can…you can use more pressure.”

“Okay.”

He rocked the sides of his hands back and forth, where the neck met the shoulders, then again pushed outwards. With the base of his palms, he rotated circles in the soft tissue where the collarbone joined the shoulders. San waved at him to get his attention, then held up his phone to show the timer. Thirty seconds left. He grinned, and suddenly reversed direction, pushing from the shoulders inward, steadily, up the neck then back, just as the timer sounded. Instantly, he lifted his hands.

“Fuck,” Wooyoung said, head still bent. “That’s not fair.”

Yeosang fell backwards on his bed, laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the class descriptions I found for "body mechanics and acting" differed, but when I looked up videos for what body mechanics meant in animation, what I wrote made sense. 
> 
> Also, I vaguely recalled something about strict laws on privacy and photographs. What I looked up seemed to indicate as long as it isn't published, it's not forbidden, but obv if people object, you should delete their photos. But also......some websites said there was a general confusion over the law because, I think of a newer law regarding photographs of women? Which is much stricter. (I got rather lost in the details.) Basically, it seems what he was doing wouldn't be an actual problem unless published...ahem. Hence the urgency to get the website down. The rest is me guessing at what seemed logical.
> 
> Any dancers who read this, please don't hate me! I only took ballet for a year as a little, so I used photos and descriptions of proper form as a guide for writing that section of the chapter, and wrote how I feel, when I see dancers moves--lots of awe, pretty much.
> 
> And any artists...ack, please don't hate me, either!


	7. Try Something Different. Thursday afternoon, Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contact ID reminders:  
> Yeosang: Me  
> San: Mountain  
> Wooyoung: PinguDances  
> Mingi: Lumiere  
> Yunho: NewsAt6  
> Hongjoong: NeverSleeps

**Lumiere:**  
I have an idea.

**Me:**  
Okay.

**Lumiere:**  
The last couple times I had an idea,  
you jumped on me.

**Me:**  
You rushed in and it didn’t work out well.  
This whole Harley hunt is weird, but I’m glad they won.  
It’s good you’re all four getting along again.  
The website was…well, risky.  
I didn’t want you getting in trouble.

**Lumiere:**  
See! That’s why I thought—if I have an idea,  
I should tell Yeosang first.  
You’ll tell me if it’s a bad one.

**Me:**  
I can try?

**Lumiere:**  
We’re looking everywhere for Harley.  
But why everywhere?  
Joker was the director of San’s film.  
San said he has lots of friends, but someone he’d go to  
a party with, and go to so much effort for, to win,  
it’d have to be a really good friend, right?  
No way a filmmaking major has time to get that close  
to people outside the performing arts colleges.

Not good. Mingi _was_ on track—sort of. Kim Hongjoong had done it for Jongho, and probably for amusement. Jongho wasn’t a close friend, though, more like a little brother the director liked and didn’t mind indulging. A little redirection should be enough….

**Me:**  
I don’t know him, only _of_ him.  
We barely spoke at the film screening.  
But given that just among the four of you,  
you have majors from each of those colleges,  
I think you can rule that out.

**Lumiere:**  
Oh. I guess so….  
But wait! San asked him what he studied.  
He acted out—acted out! That should be important!

**Me:**  
A lot of people play charades.  
That doesn’t make them actors.  
Some people are just good at games.

**Lumiere:**  
I don’t know.  
But that wasn’t all of my new idea!  
He acted out being an interdisciplinary major.  
He could be taking acting classes.  
Or dancing classes.  
Or whatever it is you all do in Film and TV.  
And not have overlap with the others, because he’s  
also taking classes in whatever else he studies.

Not good, not good. Think fast.

**Me:**  
He could be, or he could _have_.  
As in, he could have, _in the past_ , taken any of those,  
which also explains why none of you  
has seen him currently.  
That part of his degree could be over.  
That makes more sense, doesn’t it?

**Lumiere:**  
But he saw San and Park Seonghwa in that play.  
And he saw San and Jongho in that film.

**Me:**  
He saw the film because he knew Kim Hongjoong.  
Him seeing the play?  
If his self-designed major included performing arts  
classes—not a bad idea, by the way—  
then he’d still be interested,  
even with his classes done.

He grimaced. “Joker” had said to call him Hongjoong-hyung, but that felt too much of an imposition. Yet here he was, even though he’d been warned of the other’s intentions to steer clear, pulling him in.

**Me:**  
Didn’t Kim Hongjoong cast San because of the play?  
Maybe his friend went with him.  
How close did they seem?

**Lumiere:**  
Uh…Harley was hanging off him a lot.  
Though they’re just friends. They have to be.  
San wouldn’t go after his sunbae’s date!

**Me:**  
Mingi. High dive.

**Lumiere:**  
Right.

**Me:**  
I never said San would do that.  
I never even said the word “date.”  
I meant close, as in same-year close.  
More possible proof that he knows  
Kim Hongjoong from classes they  
took earlier. Maybe first year?

**Lumiere:**  
He could be a year older than us?

**Me:**  
I don’t know.  
I’m just trying to make your ideas make some sense.  
Because if he was currently taking classes, how could  
San, Wooyoung, and Yunho have missed him?  
No offense to you.

**Lumiere:**  
No. You’re right.  
College of Hotel Management doesn’t overlap at all.

**Me:**  
It’s okay.  
It does seem to make sense that he’d  
be familiar with our colleges.  
Otherwise how could he know Kim Hongjoong?  
But interdisciplinary is a mix of fields.  
He could be studying history now.  
Or political science. Or literature.

How much more to say? Should he stop there? He looked around the animation lab and sunk further down into his seat.

**Me:**  
He obviously likes drama enough to pay attention  
to the department.  
Or like I said, he went with his friend?

**Lumiere:**  
Huh.  
I don’t know, Yeosang.  
You didn’t see them. They really went all out.  
You don’t do that for just anyone.  
But you helped me get rid of the bad ideas.  
Thanks.

**Me:**  
You’re welcome.

[Chat-99]

**Lumiere:**  
Yeosang helped me figure some stuff out.  
Guys, we’re going about this the wrong way.

**Me:**  
Mingi, we _just now_ talked.  
I don’t know what you’re referring to.

**Lumiere:**  
You said it made sense that his degree could include  
performing arts courses. That that’s how he knew  
Kim Hongjoong.

**Me:**  
I said it wasn’t a bad idea.  
It making sense doesn’t mean it’s the truth.  
It’s all guesswork.

**Lumiere:**  
You’re smarter than guessing.  
San.  
Wooyoung.  
Either of you.  
You both actually met Harley.  
Did anything he act out give a clue to which kinds of courses  
he might have taken?

As he stared at his phone, waiting to see who would respond, Yeosang desperately tried to remember what he’d tried to convey with gestures and no words. How he’d appreciated the film and the drama and the play. Those were safe. Convincing them, somehow, he was an interdisciplinary major—such a vague idea, it was also safe. What else? What else? He blew a kiss to Jongho, like he was a flirt. He squirmed in his chair. That had been an impulse. It had been funny, a little, to see his friend thrown off, when he was fishing for compliments. Anything else?

**PinguDances:**  
An interdisciplinary degree with performing arts courses?

**Lumiere:**  
Yeah!  
Yeosang said things like performing arts and history.  
Performing arts and literature.  
Performing arts and politics?

**Me:**  
Performing arts and political science.  
Interpreting any of those, almost any field would work.  
It doesn’t narrow it down at all, Mingi.

**PinguDances:**  
Wait. It might, a little.  
Park Seonghwa was impressed by the miming.  
So much, he asked why Harley wasn’t in the drama department.  
Hongjoong-hyung said he’d asked Harley that a lot too,  
but Harley was never interested.  
So, it _can’t_ be drama classes he ever took!

**Me:**  
He might have meant why wasn’t he a drama major.  
He might have taken drama classes.

He remembered that now, denying to both his seniors any interest in drama…and also miming no time for dance to Wooyoung. He bit his lip.

**PinguDances:**  
He was _good_ , though.  
Maybe he did take classes, just not a major.  
Between Park Seonghwa and San, one of them  
would have noticed someone that talented.  
San.  
San.  
San.  
Where are you?  
This is important.

**Mountain:**  
What, Wooyoung?  
I’m trying to memorize a soliloquy.

**PinguDances:**  
Scroll up real fast to Mingi’s first comment and read.  
This might actually help!

**Me:**  
They might not have remembered if  
none of the classes overlapped.  
If he and Kim Hongjoong are same-years,  
they had to have met in a shared class.  
So even if he took drama classes,  
the timing could have been off.  
Don’t start up false hopes.

**Mountain:**  
No…Seonghwa-hyung didn’t recognize him at all.  
He said so.  
He’s the same year as Hongjoong-hyung.  
I absolutely didn’t recognize him.  
He was new to Jongho.  
We all three of us know pretty much everyone.  
I think the college of drama is out, entirely.

**PinguDances:**  
And dance is out!  
I asked him, remember?  
If he’d ever considered dance.  
He shook his head.  
That leaves film and television.  
Oh my God, Yeosang, you narrowed it down!  
Yunho.  
Yunho.  
Mingi, is Yunho in the dorm with you?

**Me:**  
It wasn’t my idea.  
It was Mingi’s idea.

**Lumiere:**  
You made it make sense.  
He’s in the shower. Almost done, I think.  
I’ll hurry him up.

**Me:**  
I also said IF the interdisciplinary program  
involved performing arts, he could have  
finished those courses earlier, because  
otherwise one of you would have seen  
him in your buildings.  
That could be especially true if he was  
same-years with Kim Hongjoong.  
Don’t crowd on the high dive, okay?  
He could be in any college right now,  
taking who knows which courses.

**NewsAt6:**  
There had better be a good reason why my phone  
was shoved at me when I was barely dry.

**Me:**  
Oh, get dressed, Yunho.  
It can wait.

**Lumiere:**  
He has a robe on.  
He’s reading the texts.

Why did Mingi have to clue in? Why did Mingi have to _text him_? _Why did he respond back with logic?_ This was one-track Mingi. He wasn’t going to let this go. And it…it looked rational. If he, himself, wasn’t directly, frighteningly involved, he would be proud of himself for offering all kinds of possibilities. But this was _him_ they were chasing down. And he’d made it _easier_. He tried to slow down his breathing. This couldn’t happen. He pulled up the hood of his sweatshirt and stared at the phone.

**NewsAt6:**  
Damn, Yeosang.  
We should have had you in on this from the beginning!

**Me:**  
It was Mingi’s idea.

**PinguDances:**  
Both of you deserve credit.

**Mountain:**  
Yunho, did you ever actually look for him in your college?

**NewsAt6:**  
Not really. You said interdisciplinary major.  
My college never occurred to me.  
All our programs are pretty set in stone.

**Lumiere:**  
But someone could take a few classes there, right?

**Mountain:**  
How many departments are there?

**NewsAt6:**  
Broadcasting, mine.  
Filmmaking, Kim Hongjoong’s.  
Animation, Yeosang’s.  
Multimedia.  
Cinema Studies.  
There’s a lot of overlap, but maybe not so much  
between animation and filmmaking.

**PinguDances:**  
Yeosang?

**Me:**  
What?

**PinguDances:**  
Have you ever seen Hongjoong-hyung in your department?

**Me:**  
No.  
First time I ever laid eyes on him was the screening.

**Mountain:**  
And you’re in your department a lot, so that crosses off Animation.

Yeosang took a tremulous breath. That was squeaking by. Still dangerous, though. So dangerous.

**NewsAt6:**  
The most logical option is they took courses in filmmaking together.  
Film and political science.  
Film and history.  
Film and literature.  
Those all sound like rational interdisciplinary majors.  


**Me:**  
They do, I agree, but please don’t forget  
what I said about the high chances  
of any such courses being finished.

**Lumiere:**  
He was at the Drama party, though.  
He’s still in the loop.

**Me:**  
A _lot_ of people know about the post-midterm  
Drama party. Most don’t go.

**PinguDances:**  
_You_ don’t do parties. How would you know?

**Me:**  
You told me, last year.  
The first time you tried to get me to go.

**PinguDances:**  
Oh. I forgot.

**Mountain:**  
Jongho did say Harley had heard about the party.

**Me:**  
How can you remember that?

**Mountain:**  
I wrote down everything about that evening.  
I’m looking at it all right now.

**Me:**  
Very thorough of you.  
Backs up my point, though.  
Say he did take filmmaking classes with your director,  
there’s no evidence he’s taking them now.

**Mountain:**  
You don’t know him, so you can’t know…  
But Hongjoong-hyung, though he likes to have fun,  
wouldn’t have gone full-on Joker for someone  
he just took a few classes with a couple  
years back. He’s too busy.

No, he hadn’t known that. But he had thought Jongho was going to be his partner in the costume contest. Never would he have thought of Kim Hongjoong. He chewed on his lower lip and watched the chat proceed. Yunho would try to scope out _their_ college. No need to bother _him_ because he was in Animation, and he hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t know what kind of person to look for. He’d made it clear in that previous chat that a description alone wasn’t enough. How could _they_ possibly know, either? Delicate features, fine, he had those, he guessed. Brown hair, okay, yes. Graceful hands? He dropped the pen he was twirling in his other hand and examined it. Graceful? What did that even mean? A fit body. Thank whatever gods that were that he’d never worked out with anyone but Jongho, and bless nature for cooler temperatures and his oversized sweaters and hoodies. There was that one thing Wooyoung hadn’t said, but Jongho had stressed—Harley Quinn had been _confident_. Something he wasn’t. The way Harley Quinn moved was with confidence. _He_ just…walked. Right? What if San went back to Hongjoong to ask questions again? Hongjoong wouldn’t give anything away, right? Unless he figured out that the misdirections, almost all directly involving _him_ , had come from Yeosang. He might. He might be irritated. He didn’t think he would give him away, though. Right? He tasted blood and licked his lips. It stung. Super. He’d bitten and chewed that much. He had to get to Hongjoong first. To come clean. To ask forgiveness for dragging him into it all. For not being able to handle it himself. Had to beg him not to give him away. Would he? He seemed kind enough, but Yeosang was a stranger. His throat felt tight and his eyes started to blur. He sniffed and muted the group chat, then opened a new message.

**Me:**  
Kim Hongjoong-ssi?

**NeverSleeps:**  
Who’s this?

**Me:**  
Kang Yeosang-ssi. Jongho’s friend.

**NeverSleeps:**  
Oh! Harley Quinn!

**Me:**  
That would be me.  
I need to talk to you.  
Is there anywhere private I could talk to you?  
Please. It’s so very important.

**NeverSleeps:**  
Yeah. I’m a Research Assistant this term.  
You know where that room is?

**Me:**  
I do, but…aren’t there other RAs in the room?

**NeverSleeps:**  
I’m the only undergrad, so today’s work was dumped on me.  
The other two are out celebrating Halloween.  
So they say.  
Head down to the basement.  
I’m here.

**Me:**  
Okay.

He licked his lip again. It wasn’t bleeding too much, but what an impression he’d be making. With care, he saved his programs and files and logged out of the lab computer. He grabbed his backpack as he stood up and shoved his phone into a pocket. He hadn’t even finished the work he’d meant to. He silently passed by his fellow students and walked to the back of the building. Down the stairs, take a left, second door on the right. He opened it slowly, then halted, his heart sinking. Impossible. Dark hair. Someone with dark hair was already there, back to the door. Hongjoong’s face brightened when he saw Yeosang, then dimmed into a worried frown. His companion turned around. Park Seonghwa? He was not going to cry. Life was so fucking unfair, but he was not going to cry.


	8. Something Familiar? Thursday afternoon, Part 2.

Yeosang

“Yeosang-ssi?” Hongjoong’s voice was so gentle. He jerked his head in a nod and stumbled forward. He stood in front of the desk, wishing he hadn’t come, wishing he’d never agreed to the costume idea. Maybe he wished he’d stayed in the States.

Quietly, Park Seonghwa passed him a tissue. He gave him a startled look. Oh. His lip. He bobbed his head, and took it, dabbing it against the cut. Today was just great.

“Seonghwa, give him your damn chair, and take a walk in the hall.”

The other stood and pulled the chair out. Yeosang dipped his head again and sat down slowly, shifting his backpack to the floor. He waited until the older student had left the room and closed the door.

“Um. Kim Hongjoong-ssi. I need to apologize to you.”

“You don’t have to be that formal, I told you.”

Yeosang shook his head violently.

“You might not feel that way when you hear everything. You weren’t wrong at all, that I wanted to remain anonymous. I didn’t know, it would never have crossed my mind, that San would…would even have noticed me, let alone bothered you with questions. I appreciated the warning, because for reasons I don’t understand, he and my roommate—they’re best friends, you know?”

Hongjoong nodded, then rested his chin on his hands, eyes focused on Yeosang.

“I did it to make sure Wooyoung and San and Mingi and Yunho could re-establish their friendship. I don’t want to get into why it got weird, but it did. It was hurting all of them so much, but they were too stubborn. I know…I know what it’s like to lose friends. I lost some when we moved to the U.S. I didn’t really make any new ones. Not really. I was lucky Jongho’s father and my father were reassigned to the same place.” He pressed his lips together. “I’m not…I’m not a confident person. Not with crowds. Not when they know who I am.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “So that costume was a dream. And I got lost in it. Like a fairy tale? Except when it was all over, the next day, I found out my…my friends, who didn’t know it was me, at all, were…were planning on helping San find…Harley Quinn. So crazy, isn’t it? Jongho warned me. San had gotten a crush, I guess, on who I seemed to be. And maybe…maybe you think it’s something I should have just dealt with. Brushed off. But I couldn’t. Because I’d…um…I’d liked him a long time. And that day, after the party, it occurred to me, it was…more than liking. How does one deal with…with being in love with someone who likes a person who doesn’t exist? When that person is someone I pretended to be? I didn’t know they were actually looking around campus for Harley Quinn, using a handful of real clues, like a group of detectives, until yesterday. I’d thought I could just wait it out, keep my head down. I already notified campus housing that I wouldn’t be renewing my dorm assignment. I’d just move out, and they’d all forget, and I’d just…fade away from their memories. And that’s…that’s okay.” He blinked rapidly. “Such a much better option than living in constant fear of being found out. Jongho has an extra bedroom for me, and I’m always in the animation department and the library. They wouldn’t see me again. I wouldn’t have to see…him.” He could taste blood again. Damn. He must’ve been chewing on his lip. He pressed the tissue to his mouth.

“Yeosang. I can see you’re in pain, and I promise, I want to help, but I still don’t understand why you’re here.”

“Right. I just don’t know how to make it shorter. Way too much has happened in the last…less than a week? It’s been less than a week. Wow. Okay. I’m here today because Mingi, one of San’s roommates, he’s…kind of the reason why the original problems started. He’s not bad. He’s smart. He just gets so _sure_ of conclusions without thinking through all the other possibilities, it can make life difficult. Today, he remembered—I guess the others told him—my miming of an interdisciplinary major. I don’t know if you remember that?”

“I do. You have a gift.”

“Thank you. He put together clues which sort of made sense. That me being with you, and us in such elaborate costumes, meant we must be close friends, because you wouldn’t go to that effort otherwise. Me, I knew it was probably to humor Jongho, and because you thought it funny. But they don’t know Jongho had any part in it. So Mingi figured it must be an interdisciplinary major that wove in the performing arts. I tried to redirect him. It didn’t work so well. He took it as me confirming his idea. I was just…trying to be normal. If I hadn’t been Harley Quinn, I would have been analyzing like that. I couldn’t risk looking _different_. They have this list.”

“What’s the list, Yeosang?”

His cheeks flushed. “Brownish hair, that San saw a bit of beneath the wig. Delicate features—I guess they think I have those. Graceful hands—whatever that means. That I looked…fit. They know I go for runs in the mornings. They don’t know I work out. That outfit…made it obvious. I thought it good, at the time, because it didn’t look like normal me. But it just added to the attention. The final one I didn’t get, either: the way I move. I just…walk. But not to them. Wooyoung thought I was a dancer.”

“You don’t move like most people. I can sort of see dancing. Or maybe gymnastics?”

“I…I did parkour, for a while, in the U.S.”

“That would be it. You move lightly. Normally. At least, you did Saturday. Not today. But I interrupted. Why was it so risky to look different?”

How was it this easy to tell him everything?

“Because I can’t have San find out.”

“Why not?”

“Jongho kept arguing that. He didn’t understand until I made the imbalance clear. San liked what he saw last Saturday night, fake me. It’d be like me only liking him because of the roles he’s played. He’s never liked me for me, more than just his roommate’s friend. So, if you can, imagine being me. Normal me, like this. And he figures it out. And the look of disappointment on his face. I _know_ it’s not me he likes, but to have to _see it_ in his face? I _can’t_. So…today…they were narrowing it down. I hadn’t realized, with those charades, that I ruled out the schools of drama and dance. Which left my own college. They don’t, right now, think it’s me. But…that’s largely because I led them to think Harley Quinn could be—I _did_ say could be, I tried so hard not to state untruths as truths—that Harley Quinn could be your same-year. Could be someone you knew from film classes years back. That’s why they hadn’t seen him. That Harley Quinn—a name I hate, now—is in a different department taking classes to finish a degree. That that seemed logical. I am here to apologize for dragging you into this. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t get them to stop. I got too scared. So I kept throwing up your name and friendship with…with Harley Quinn, like a defense. I didn’t have any right to do that. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. If you are, rightfully, angry at me, please just take it out on me. Please don’t tell them anything, if any of them comes around again. Please don’t make it easier for them to guess. I promise,” he inhaled sharply, “I _promise_ I will be off-campus except for when it’s needed as soon as the term is over. I would leave earlier, but that would be suspicious. And I just cannot bear to see a look of disappointment on his face, that it’s…me, me who played Harley Quinn.”

Hongjoong sighed deeply. “I’m not angry with you, Yeosang. I would feel rather like a monster, if I blamed you for your words. Not that anything you said was all that terrible. Stepping over bounds when you’re frightened? That’s normal. But may I say something?”

“After everything I just poured out, and you forgave? Of course.”

“When I agreed to the couple costume, it was because Jongho asked, and he’s a sweet kid. He’s also very determined, and he knew the idea would amuse me. If I had known then, what the effects would be, I would never have agreed. That is not, however, the important part of what I wish to say. I asked him why he was going to so much trouble, and he said that what you planned was entirely part of you, your very heart. He said there were reasons why that part of your personality was…suppressed, I suppose? He didn’t use that word, but that was the impression I gathered. He believed a complete disguise would grant you freedom to be wholly yourself.” He paused. “I was not expecting San’s strong approach, either. He is not normally like that. He said, among many things, that he felt like he knew you—Harley Quinn, that is. That something was very familiar.”

Yeosang tensed in his chair.

“ _Something_. Not a name or anything specific, but something. I don’t know what that something was, but I watched you that whole evening. How you interacted with everyone, from the moment you walked into Jongho’s house until the moment the two of you fled. I study filmmaking and directing. I help people express emotions of fictional characters. There was nothing fictional in any of your actions that night. No role playing. You put on a spectacular act in convincing people who knew you that they did not know you. When I said you were marvelous, I meant _you_ were marvelous, set on doing and then accomplishing a good deed, and you were rather mesmerizing to watch, with that quick miming. It truly is a shame you have other academic interests.” He smiled faintly. “I have no right, and no intention, to ask you why you think you would be a disappointment to anyone. I would like to ask you to be kinder to yourself. You said you knew what it was like to lose friends, but you are deliberately choosing that path.”

“I can’t stay, and pretend I don’t…feel like I feel. And the four of them are…special. They don’t deserve the confusion and distress of knowing it was me, all along. I’ll still have Jongho. And he made me promise I had to try to make friends in my department, after I leave the dorm.”

“I hope you do. As I did before, I won’t give San, or any of them, any information about who Harley Quinn was. I cannot do more than that, you understand. It seems your friends may have enough bits and pieces that, with just a little bit of luck, they might figure it out.”

Yeosang looked down at the floor. “I know,” he said quietly. “But at least I have apologized to you. That brings me some comfort. Thank you, Kim Hongjoong-ssi.”

The other shook his head slightly. “You can text me whenever you want. If you ever feel comfortable enough, you don’t have to use full honorifics. You are a good-hearted person, as Jongho said. And I do firmly believe every part of you, in every situation, is entirely you. A person of falsehoods would not have come here today. Ah. Here’s another tissue.”

Yeosang looked at the used tissue in his hands. More bloody spots than he’d realized. He nodded, and threw it away in the trashcan Hongjoong indicated. Slowly, he stood up, shouldering his backpack.

“One more thing?”

“Yes?”

“I’m done for the day. Can I walk out with you?”

“Park Seonghwa-ssi?”

“He won’t say anything. He never pries. I’d rather you not walk out alone.”

Tears came close again, but Yeosang rapidly blinked them back.

“Thank you. For everything.”

In the middle of turning off lights and collecting papers into a backpack of his own, Kim Hongjoong looked up at him and smiled. Together they left the room, Yeosang looking down at the floor as the other locked the door. Park Seonghwa leaned against the wall several feet away, but was silent. Quietly, the three of them went upstairs and made their way through the building. The sun was setting.

San

Yeosang had disappeared from the group chat after a comment he’d made about Hongjoong-hyung. He hadn’t thought much of it, but as time passed, and the rest had asked questions directed at Yeosang, to receive no answers, he began to worry. Had he been abrupt or rude? The other had said nothing but cautionary words to them, all so determined to find someone San couldn’t let go. Someone he’d only seen briefly, for one evening. But that wasn’t true. Something about the look in Harley Quinn’s eyes was so familiar. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t figure out where he’d seen it before. Not just sadness but…a hint of longing? He hadn’t told anyone else _that_. It didn’t make sense. Yet a part of his brain had recognized that look. He _knew_ that person, but from where? So vibrant one moment, and then disappearing into shadow the next. It was weird and strange. When he tried to figure it out, it felt obsessive, and he felt guilty. What was wrong with him? But the idea of just letting go scared him. This man, whose real name he didn’t even know, was someone he knew. How could he be so drawn to someone, realize he somehow knew them, but not be able to say who the person was? And to think somehow in his single-mindedness, he’d said something to hurt Yeosang made him feel sick.

That’s how he found himself sitting on a bench near the College of Film and Television, hoping to catch him, and apologize. He didn’t mind the wait. Yeosang was worth it. Being cast in _Waiting for Godot_ had excited and terrified him. After the performance, Wooyoung had hugged him and tried to spin him around. It made him laugh and hug him back. Seonghwa-hyung had given him encouraging words. Other people had said lovely things. When Jongho went to congratulate his co-star, Yeosang had hung back, reached for his hand, and with the warmest sincerity he could ever recall hearing, told him, “You did well. So well.” Yeosang had read parts with him, when rehearsing for the film, though he’d complained it would give him nightmares. But even before then, since he’d first met him something over a year ago, he’d always been kind. Sure, cross him, and you’d be attacked before you knew it. But each of the four of them, before finals, would always get a box of their favorite foods, a cheering, hand-drawn Hehetmon card tucked inside. Had he ever returned the favor? He didn’t think he had. Had any of them? He wasn’t sure.

Was that…well, a small figure in a huge hoodie, bound to be Yeosang. He stood up awkwardly. What should he say? Wait. Why were Hongjoong-hyung and Seonghwa-hyung standing next to him? He walked forward quickly. What a curious trio.

“Hi,” he said brightly. The older two looked at him quickly, but Yeosang was slower, and when San saw his face, he gasped. He’d chewed his lower lip bloody, a stained tissue in one hand. And his eyes, when they met San’s, were full of terror. Oh, gods. He hadn’t said anything _that_ bad. What was wrong? He whipped his head toward the other two. Seonghwa-hyung’s face was unreadable. Hongjoong-hyung’s expression was worried. What was going on? He swallowed and looked back at Yeosang. The same fear in his eyes. Directed at… _him_? No. This wasn’t right. He reached out a hand and the other flinched. What the hell? Everything was fine, just last night, Yeosang laughing at a grumbling Wooyoung. And now…?

Yeosang bobbed brief bows to the older two, hesitated, then nodded at him. And then he left. Nearly running. He stood still, trying to understand, but nothing made sense. He took a step after him, but a strong, small hand gripped his arm, and he stopped.

“Leave him be, San,” Hongjoong said softly. “He’s had a very rough day.”


	9. Yeosang Versus Harley Quinn. Friday morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jongho is a very, very good friend.

Jongho

Jongho was not a fan of early morning runs, but he firmly believed in the power of routine. He had woken Yeosang up at 6:00 a.m., and though the loaned sweats didn’t quite fit, by their third mile running along the Han River, he was grateful to see calm return to his friend’s face. Even a distant, numbed calm was preferable to exhausted misery. Back at his house, showered and changed (good thing Yeosang kept some regular clothes there), he refused to eat unless they both did. Food didn’t make him happy, but it was _normal_ , and he would grab any ounce of normal he could.

After breakfast, of course, everything was different. They took the subway to campus. He walked Yeosang to his classroom, then headed to his own college. At some point in the next few hours, he was positive San would text him. He’d suggested Yeosang let him field questions about last night, and been relieved by the other’s uncertain acceptance of his outlined idea. Relying heavily on facts as it did, there was little need to worry about mistakes in repetition—though he hoped San would pass on only necessary information and ask the others to leave it be.

After his first class ended, he realized he’d made an error. San hadn’t texted him; he was waiting for him outside the door. He reminded himself of Yeosang’s plea earlier that week, to act as if they had no idea who Harley Quinn was, no matter what, and didn’t pause when San fell into step with him.

“Do you have a break for a while, Jongho?”

“An hour or so.”

“Good, so do I.’

Liar, he thought. You’re skipping Professor Kim’s lecture. A bad choice academically, but given the situation…he thought slightly better of the elder for it.

“Are we headed anywhere in particular?” he asked.

“The men’s dressing room. Not in use this time of day. Or even this week, really.”

Another plus for thinking of privacy. He followed him into the annex leading to the main theater, and kept his peace until they were both sitting on chairs in the brightly lit, narrow room.

“I told Wooyoung,” San said abruptly. “What I saw last night. It was that, or he would have called Yeosang endlessly. It’s not out of the ordinary for him to ignore group chat messages, but for him not to return to the dorm? The other two don’t know.”

“You’ll have to tell them something, or it’ll happen again.”

“Why?”

Jongho looked at him carefully. He had an answer that would satisfy most people, but would it be enough for the person sitting two feet from him? Yeosang had felt so awkward with the shine of medicated ointment on his lips, he’d let Jongho apply concealer under his eyes. San…either didn’t have access to concealer, or he didn’t care.

“In high school, there was a regional leadership conference held every year. Each school sent two to five delegates. In ours, anyone could be nominated to go, but it was almost always the president and vice president of the student council who got the most votes. My junior year, I was vice president, and I thought it’d look good on my university application. I’d been on enough athletic teams, in addition to drama and chorus, I wasn’t worried I’d miss the chance. As I expected, my name had the second highest number of votes. But do you know who came first? Yeosang-hyung.”

“Yeosang and…a leadership conference? Why would…I mean, it doesn’t seem…likely.”

“Because it wasn’t. But when the very popular council president takes her time to go to all the clubs and sports teams to persuade people to vote for her nominee as first choice, most do it. Even—or maybe especially—when everyone knew it was a cruel joke, to let her have the revenge she’d wanted for a long time.”

“I know Yeosang can be cutting, but—”

“It wasn’t that. Her dad had been the company branch manager before his incompetence got him demoted, and our fathers were sent over to put everything back in order. That embarrassed her, and Yeosang-hyung was in her same academic year. She—.” No. That story didn’t need to be told today, if ever. “She couldn’t do much, except make his life fairly miserable, year in, year out. But then senior year gave her that golden opportunity. She knew he’d be embarrassed to be called up in the assembly. She knew he wouldn’t turn it down in front of everyone. She knew he’d be miserable the entire weekend away. Which he was.”

“She sounds like a bitch,” San said frankly. “But I don’t see why that would cause…last night.”

“Yeosang-hyung showed me all the texts. How he kept trying to get all of you to be rational, but you ignored him. The same way he was ignored for years in school. I know it wasn’t done meanly, like it was back then. Still hits a chord, though. We weren’t in the same year. All I could do was use the fact I helped our school win athletic tournaments to keep him physically safe. People went after him, they’d have to deal with me. So they never did. Almost the entire student population left him entirely alone every year we lived there. He wasn’t expecting to be so thoroughly dismissed by the few, actual friends he’d made here.”

“Then I was right. It _was_ my fault. Our fault. That’s why I went to find him, to apologize. But he looked scared, not hurt. Scared of _me_.”

Now that was an interesting tone of voice. He’d not forget that.

“Well, it recalled a scary, lonely time in his life. But there’s more. The weekend, of course, sucked. The teacher who’d driven us to the conference nagged at him to participate. I took on as much as I could. I must have looked like a spotlight-seeker to that guy.” He shrugged. “Whatever. There was a girl there, really smart. Determined, too. She had a much stronger lisp than Yeosang-hyung, but she made sure people understood her. The people running the conference were impressed, and so were most of the students. Not all, though. The last hour we were there, waiting for our teacher to finish up _something_ —never knew what—so we could leave, we saw a small crowd in a corner. A whole lot of people were avoiding that corner, which meant someone was a target, and no one wanted to get involved. Except us. Though by us, I mean me following my best friend, who, as soon as he figured out what was going on, took off like lightning right toward them. It was that girl. And it was like….”

Jongho tipped his head back and stared at the ceiling, “It was like he saw her, but also himself. There we were, in a place where no one but me knew him, and no one knew her, I guess, and he just…snapped. He shoved right through them, though nearly all of them were bigger, and stood right in front of her. It was fucking awesome.” He looked down again, right at San. “He tore them apart, not angrily—people ignore that—but with this icy contempt that made every word _heavier_. That’s when those other people who wouldn’t help earlier came near, to laugh at the bullies. Which pissed him off more, because he just wanted it to _stop_ , the way they’d hunted the girl down, pinned her in a corner, and tried to make her cry. For why? Because she was better than them? Because of her lisp? Who knows? They were saying a lot of things before he shut them up. Then the teachers arrived, and we had to leave. Never knew what happened to her. I hope she did okay.”

San stared at him disbelievingly. “Yeosang? Yeosang did all that?”

“Yes,” Jongho said calmly, “but when we got back home, no one knew. No one ever guessed.”

“A senior…that was only a few years ago. Surely some people recorded it and put it online!”

“Probably. But no one knew his name. And no one at our school expected anything to happen, so why would they bother checking? He was only worth their time to make fun of. I know none of you did that, but those dismissive texts combined with all those memories? When he could never do anything to defend himself? Think about it, hyung. People you trust, people you admire, people you like, and suddenly…it all feels like it’s collapsing. It’s a good thing Hongjoong-hyung was leaving the building at the same time, because otherwise he’d have seen you, alone. At that moment, you were everything that was precious and terrible at the same time. Of course, he looked scared.”

San

Precious and terrible. Precious. Terrible.

Yeosang.

If he was told…if he was told that he had said or done something to hurt Wooyoung, he would be devastated. His best friend? Horrible, awful idea. But did…did he think of Wooyoung as precious? Endearing and wild and funny and sweet and a little crazy and lovable…but precious? He thought…not.

Could he picture, in any way, Wooyoung looking at him as Yeosang had? With fear and pain, because he thought him precious and terrible? It was impossible. They were important to each other, but not…precious. Maybe they had a precious friendship, if precious meant a worth beyond measure. But to be seen as _everything_ that was precious—and terrible—at the same time? He didn’t think he meant _all that_ to Wooyoung. 

Mingi and Yunho were fun, though he was everlastingly grateful he got the single room in the suite. Seonghwa-hyung he respected. Hongjoong-hyung he admired. Jongho…was good. A fiercely devoted friend to Yeosang.

What was Yeosang to him? He didn’t…fit the other categories. Thinking he’d been an ass to him, when all Yeosang had done was try to warn him to be careful, had made him _need_ to apologize in person. Seeing his face last night…the only reason he hadn’t run after him had been Hongjoong-hyung. If he had run after him, what would he have said? What could he have said, other than ‘please don’t look at me like that’? But if he had triggered all those memories, he had no right to tell Yeosang how he should or shouldn’t look at anyone. Especially him.

Could he ever view Yeosang as terrible? How? How could you view someone as terrible when you wanted to protect them? But he would want to protect Wooyoung, too. He’d wanted to protect him from Mingi’s certainties, and had failed, but Wooyoung had been happy again because of Harley and Joker winning the award.

Harley. How much was gratitude? How much was instant physical attraction? That _was_ part of it. His looks _had_ drawn the attention of nearly everyone there. But the attitude, the quick wit, and the guts to actually dress like that—he admired those. He was entirely attractive.

Though he didn’t know what he sounded like. What if he had an unappealing voice? What if his laugh was strange? What if he was straight? Maybe that’s why Hongjoong-hyung had refused to say anything? That was disappointing. Why had he assumed he wasn’t straight? Because he dressed as Harley Quinn? If that was so, wow. He needed to use his brain more.

“San-hyung?”

“Yes?”

“I’m okay skipping a class for Yeosang-hyung’s sake, but can you skip two in a row?”

“For Yeosang or Wooyoung, yes,” he replied absently. Wait. What? He looked at Jongho.

“It was a lot to think about,” the younger said kindly.

“Understatement.” San rubbed his forehead. “If this keeps up…this hunt for Harley Quinn, it’s going to keep upsetting Yeosang, then?”

“If you keep talking about it in front of him. You had a separate group chat with the other three for a while. I guess you could use that again.”

“But he knows, now. If the main group chat went silent again, he might think it’s us talking the same way.”

“He might.”

“Then…then…it’s not worth it.” Was pained relief a thing? It felt like a thing.

“What isn’t worth it?” Jongho asked cautiously.

“To keep looking for Harley. Yeosang was right. It’s not a bad guess, that the interdisciplinary major could be related to the performing arts, but it’s still a guess. Hongjoong-hyung knows a ridiculous number of people.”

“He does. Remember the neuropsychology professor he introduced us to at the screening?”

“The one he consulted for insight into our characters…yeah, I remember him. Huh. Just goes to show Harley could truly be in any program. And without a name, how could I ever locate him on a campus with thousands of students?”

“It could be quite difficult.”

“Then that’s settled. I’ll stop.”

Jongho looked surprised. “Just like that?”

“Just like that. It’s always going to bother me, feeling like I know who he is, but it’s not enough to go on, and I don’t want Yeosang to look at me like that again.”

“I’m impressed. You seemed really taken with him.”

“He was funny and charming and, yes, frustratingly gorgeous, but…you know what? I know other people like that. People who are funny and charming and beautiful.”

“Wooyoung-hyung. Mingi-hyung. Yunho-hyung. Me?” Jongho asked with a bright smile.

“And Yeosang! He’s beautiful, even if he dresses like he’s at a sleepover most of the time. And he’s funny. Maybe clever is a better word. Witty? Some word that’s also got mischief in it. I didn’t know he could be that evil.”

“Mmm. He can. Only around people he’s comfortable with.”

“You should’ve seen what he did to Wooyoung,” he said with a chuckle.

“I don’t think he told me.”

“He might not have had the time. It was the night before…the day everything went south. Two days ago? Does this week feel really fast to you?”

“It’s depended on the day. I guess I’ll text him later to ask what he did.”

“It wasn’t anything that big. Just—Wooyoung modeled for him, then begged a massage for being helpful.” He rolled his eyes. “Yeosang actually agreed, but said since he’d been manipulated, it’d only be for ten minutes. You should have seen it. Wooyoung was nearly melting, then my phone’s timer went off, and he was so mad, Yeosang fell over laughing. It did serve him right.” He grinned.

“Ooooh,” Jongho said knowingly. “He’s very good with his hands.”

What did _that_ mean? He shook his head. Don’t go there. It meant nothing.

“I feel slightly offended,” Jongho continued. “If he needed someone to model for him, he could’ve asked me.”

“Wooyoung was half-naked,” San remarked dryly.

Jongho shrugged. “When we have drama marathons at my house, we both shower before bedtime. Neither of us owns a robe. But that’s irrelevant. I got over a lot of issues after I started theater. If you’re self-conscious, quick costume changes aren’t quick and the director yells at you. You know how it is.”

“That’s true.” No robes? Well, it was a house, not a communal shower. It made sense.

“Why didn’t he sketch you?”

“He didn’t ask. I mean, he’d never have asked any of us. Wooyoung coaxed him into it with humor. He said it helped.”

“Now that makes more sense. He’d definitely have felt too awkward to ask, like he was imposing.”

“But if he needed us, to create better and more accurate drawings for his classes, none of us would have turned him down. Even if we don’t have dancers’ bodies.”

Jongho looked contemplative. “If he’d asked you, would it have bothered you? To stand in front of him, half-clothed, while he drew you?”

He thought about it. Wooyoung had done most of his posing with just the two of them together. Could he have done the same? He’d seen how focused Yeosang had been, even at the end. Could he have withstood being the subject of that focus for however long a time Yeosang needed?

“Sure.” He was an actor. “I could manage it.”

“You should volunteer like Wooyoung next time, then.”

“Ah, no.”

“Why?”

“If he asked, it’d be fine. It could seem a little off if I volunteered out of the blue.”

It could seem like he was trying to get somewhere. Which idea, as he thought about it, became tempting. That wasn’t good. He shifted in his chair. Not supposed to have questionable thoughts about a beautiful friend. Not supposed to think about his laugh, or his voice, or his smile, or his eyes. And definitely, most definitely not supposed to think about getting the same kind of massage as a reward, only maybe a little longer in duration—damn! How old was he, 15? Clear your mind, he told himself sternly. How did he go from being terribly worried about Yeosang to where he was now?

He met Jongho’s gaze again. Did he look…pleased? No, his head was all messed up, he was seeing things.

“No more hunting for Harley Quinn, then?” Jongho inquired.

“No more.” He said firmly. “Yeosang’s my friend. He doesn’t deserve to get emotionally stomped on because of a passing obsession with someone I don’t know.”

Nor did he deserve the direction his thoughts were taking. Hell.

“I’m truly glad to hear that,” the other said emphatically.

“Yeosang’s the better choice, by far,” he replied.

Jongho smiled at him with satisfaction, briskly collected his things, and left.

Better choice by far. Did he say that? He meant it. The correct way. Yes? What was _wrong_ with him? To go from being fixated on Harley Quinn to wondering if Yeosang—no. Bad thought. Bad thought.

How was he supposed to act around him _now_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That's a problem.


	10. Harley Quinn is Yeosang. 8 days later, Saturday.

Yeosang

He wasn’t sure he could remain in the dorms through finals.

He’d returned hours after Jongho had talked to San. He didn’t know how much Wooyoung had been told, but whatever it was, his roommate hadn’t said a word when he walked in. Yeosang _had_ suffered through one of the tightest hugs possibly ever to exist, but that was all. Well, that, and being treated very carefully since that day. By the nature of the group chat, he assumed Mingi and Yunho had been given some portion of the tale. He had no idea what any of them were thinking. The cause of their reactions wasn’t the same as what he’d dreaded, should his secrets come to light, but the effect was almost the same. Caution. Pity. Sympathy. And in the case of San, quiet and distance. He hated it.

If only he hadn’t been waiting for him outside his college!

He was grateful the “search” had been called off, even if it had meant revealing part of his embarrassing—he’d taught himself not to call it pathetic—past, but he wasn’t naïve enough to think curiosity about Harley Quinn was going to disappear any time soon. The sudden appearance and then disappearance of a person dressed like that, giving no name, and not even speaking? It had been foolish, not to realize that any costume that gave him a chance to win, but secretly, would have to be eye-catching. And catching the eye meant creating questions.

He’d missed all that, looking in the mirror at Jongho’s house. All he’d seen was someone not him, someone who could be anyone, someone who had no restrictions. A nameless someone who could win against an unfair situation. It had let him walk around a crowded room without worries or fearing judgment. If others didn’t like him, who cared? They’d never find him again, to mock him, when he looked so different in real life. Feeling limitless, he had been braver and bolder—and San had _looked at him_ , and he’d wanted to go back and do…something.

But he couldn’t have risked staying. He had to leave, to be sure he was back in the dorm when Wooyoung returned. If he’d come in after, with the make-up still on his face, how could he ever have explained _that_? They would have all felt played. Which he had done, he supposed. Keeping them from guessing had meant lies and half-lies, and led him into disaster. He’d at least saved their friendships, that was something…though now he’d be giving up his portion of it. It would have been better to have been braver that night, _somehow_ , and given his real name when the winners were announced. They’d have been shocked, and maybe mad, but it wouldn’t have led to this.

He peeked up from his drawing tablet to examine Wooyoung. Hm. Almost. He’d coped with this past week with a project: an early birthday gift for his roommate. Early, because…he really didn’t know how much more he could take, and he selfishly wanted to see his face when he saw what he’d created. It wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t see him ever again. Any of them.

He forced himself to ignore San staring at him. It wasn’t that he was hanging out in their dorm room less, just…a line had been drawn in the middle, and there was no crossing it. He felt he was being studied, as if San was trying to figure something out. It made him nervous. Why would he look conflicted? He sighed faintly, and looked back down, adding lines with his stylus.

San

It had taken four days for the wounds on Yeosang’s lower lip to heal, going by the presence and then absence of ointment. Each day had reminded him of the pain _he_ had caused his friend, and that had kept his brain from going places it shouldn’t. But the four days since….

He had been tempted to stay away from the other dorm room until the semester ended, but he didn’t want to face questions from Wooyoung. He could have invited him to hang out upstairs, but he could see that hurting Yeosang. There was no positive way to interpret avoidance, and he’d already done enough damage.

He wished he could recapture the time before that stupid argument with Mingi, when everything was normal. Though wouldn’t it simply have occurred at a different time? A time when there was no Harley and Joker to distract them from a small but painful feud, and reunite them? Then again, even that might not have been enough, without his fascination with Harley, and how enthusiastically Wooyoung had supported his plans to find him.

He’d told himself as an actor, he could hide his growing frustration and confusion. But that was on stage, not five feet away from…what could he call this? Did it need a label? _Yes._ He needed to understand why and how and when so he could take it apart, and push it far away. It wasn’t always bad to like a friend. Sometimes it could work. But in these circumstances? Swiftly going from Harley to Yeosang looked like some sort of strange rebound. Especially since he’d _known_ Yeosang for a much, much longer time. Where was it coming from?

He let his attention drift from the movie playing on Wooyoung’s laptop to Yeosang. His head was bent over his drawing tablet, free hand adding details. He did have a lovely face. He’d noticed that when he’d first met him last year. He’d felt nothing then. He hadn’t even realized until this past summer, when Yeosang had read lines with him from the film, how _expressive_ his face could be. Watching how he cycled through innocence, fear, and indifference, depending on the character, had surprised him. Harley’s quick-witted miming had been appealing, so perhaps he’d remembered Yeosang could be somewhat like that? Harley had been flawless, though, unlike Yeosang, who’d fallen into giggle fits during the more dramatic scenes.

Yeosang glanced up to peer at Wooyoung. His eyes. Assessing, inquisitive, cool and withdrawn, warm with laughter, trusting, inviting, delighted…mesmerizing. Maybe that was the thought that had shoved San down this path? Jongho asking if he could have posed as Wooyoung did. Him asking himself if he could have done so. Been looked at like that, with such intense focus. That…that could be it. It was easy to imagine that focus heating up. What would it take…? Just _imagining_ it was....

He dropped his gaze back to the laptop. Yeosang was kind and intelligent and funny and sweet and talented and thoughtful and he needed to remember all that. San needed, while he was awake, and definitely while he was in the same room as his friend, to think only about those things. All those parts of his personality which had made it simple to choose him over that search. Because Yeosang was precious and important.

“Wooyoung,” his low voice called across the few feet separating them. “Check your e-mail.”

“Right now?”

“Please?”

After a brief pout, Wooyoung paused the movie and minimized the app. He switched to his email and opened the most recent message. San leaned in. An attachment?

“You know, you could have waited to show me the newest webtoon until after the movie was over.”

“I only show you the webtoons before they’re updated online when you won’t stop _begging_ me to, you brat. It’s something else. Something special.”

Wooyoung double-clicked the file. “Well, that’s—what is this? Is this… _me_?”

San’s eyes flicked to Yeosang, smiling hopefully, then back to the drawing.

“It’s a combination thank you and early birthday gift. Do you like it?”

“It’s…I mean…do I look like this?” Wooyoung demanded of San.

“He might have flattered you a little bit—I’m kidding! He doesn’t do false compliments. So, I guess you do….”

Yeosang had drawn him between the two different ballet positions, if San remembered correctly. The shadow of the rising arm fell across his face, hiding yet highlighting the curve of his mouth and the glint in his eyes. The impression of motion was so strong he felt the dancer on the saved file was the beginning of an animation.

Wooyoung pushed the laptop away, hopped up, and pulled Yeosang off his bed into a hug.

“Thank you! I love it. I love it so much.”

Wooyoung had roommate-friend privileges. Hugs. Gifts. Often—though not always—being the last person to wish the other a good night. Jongho had best friend privileges. Hugs—well, maybe not so much. But love and affection and attention. And sleepovers. He fell into the same class as Yunho and Mingi—friends who got attention and support. He needed to remember that. They were gifts, and he was _lucky_ to have those gifts from someone like Yeosang. Which reminded him. This time, before finals, he was going to return the box of treats favor. Now was as good a time as any to go back to his room and think up a list.

“Guys,” he interrupted. Wooyoung had been asking how he’d gotten all those details from sketches. “I think I should head back to my room, polish up a paper for class. You…you amaze me, Yeosang. That’s art. You should get it printed, Wooyoung, and framed.”

“Oh, I am going to! After I forward the file to my mother so she can do the same.”

“No!” Yeosang protested. “I mean, you can show it to her when you go home for break. It’s not…it’s not meant to be printed and framed. It’s a memory. A file you might look at, later, from time to time.”

San exchanged looks with Wooyoung. Was this…something else from their friend’s past, somehow? How miserable had it been?

“Well, I…okay. I’m not going to tell her no, though, if she does want it printed and framed. It’s really good,” Wooyoung said earnestly.

“No, of course not,” Yeosang replied doubtfully.

“I’m going, then. See you two, later.”

Yeosang

He shouldn’t have objected. If his roommate wanted to print and frame it now, that was his choice. Just as it would be his choice to take it down, more than likely, after he’d faded out of their circle. Gods, he could be so selfish sometimes. He shook his head. That had been hours ago. He had readings to finish. Why did professors always assign more chapters the closer finals got?

Wooyoung had finished his movie alone, coaxed him into eating dinner in the cafeteria together, and for the last 45 minutes or so, been amusing himself with free phone apps. What a life. No, that was rude. He’d spent 5 hours in group and solo dance practice sessions this morning, and would be back at it again tomorrow. In addition to his own dance history readings. They just had different routines, and Yeosang had gotten a bit behind, wanting to finish that drawing. At least he liked what he was reading right now.

“Yeosang!” Wooyoung called out, laughing.

“Hm?”

“I need your photo.”

“Why?” Oh, this part was absolutely going to be a test question. He could feel it. He scribbled down a note.

“I just do! This app, it’s so funny.”

“Pass.”

“Just one picture.”

He twisted slightly in his chair and squinted at Wooyoung suspiciously. “What kind of app is it?”

“Nothing weird like _that_. Come on, please?”

“Fine.” He turned full around, expression completely blank.

“Really?”

"It's my face."

“Hmph.” He held his phone up and took a photo.

Yeosang rolled his eyes and turned back to his book, smiling a little at Wooyoung’s giggles.

“Oh. Oh, wow. Um, Yeosang?”

“Still trying to study.”

“Do you know…you would look very different with blond hair.”

Yeosang’s heart stopped briefly, he could swear it did.

“Would I?” His voice sounded even. Good.

“Yeah. A lot like a certain person we were looking for, not too long ago.”

“Charming.”

“Yeosang…anything you want to tell me?”

This wasn’t going well at all.

“Can’t think of much right now. Reading. Maybe later.”

He heard Wooyoung slide off his bed. In a few steps, he was next to him. He held out his phone

“This is how you’d look with blond hair, on this app.”

He glanced over. “Bad coding in that.”

Wooyoung sighed, then clicked to saved photos and scrolled.

“Here’s a picture of Harley Quinn I saved from the other group chat. People did take photos of him, you know. Posted them online.”

“Didn’t know that.”

“Look at it,” Wooyoung insisted.

He didn’t want to. He really, really didn’t want to. He underlined a sentence in his book, and held out his other hand for the phone. He made himself look at the picture. A clear picture. There went that hope.

“I’m looking.”

“Don’t you think there are similarities?”

“Neither shade of blond exists in the natural world. Aside from that? No.”

He handed the phone back to Wooyoung and underlined another sentence.

“I could ask San his opinion.”

Terror rushed through him as his head jerked up.

“Don’t. Please don’t.”

Wooyoung sat down on Yeosang’s bed, next to the desk.

“It was you,” he breathed, eyes wide.

He’d wished earlier he’d been honest right after the party. Too late now, but no more lies. Get through this conversation, get away to warn Jongho of his immediate need to move out, then face San.

“Yes. So Mingi and Yunho wouldn’t win. And you’d be happy again. Okay?”

Wooyoung was silent.

Yeosang drew a circle in the book’s margins and began shading it into a sphere.

“You’re not supposed to be sad,” he continued, “and none of the four of you is supposed to be divided.”

“The four…we’re all five of us friends.”

“Sort of.” He underlined some words. They meant something. “More like four plus one.”

“Yeosang.” Wooyoung sounded shocked.

“It’s fine. I’ve been a plus one for a long time. I’m used to it.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, after you knew San was looking for you?”

“Because I’ve liked him for a very long time,” he said steadily, “and saying, hey, that was me at the party? Terrible idea.”

“What? How?”

Yeosang dropped his pencil and rubbed his fingers into his temples.

“Because it was Harley Quinn he wanted. I’d just be a giant disappointment.”

“Why would you think…you wouldn’t…he wouldn’t…”

“Yes, he would. He had you all _hunting_ ,” he stopped to regain control of his voice, “for someone marvelous. Not me.”

He stood and stuck his cell phone in a pocket.

“I’m going for a walk while you tell him.”

“I don’t…I don’t have to.”

Yeosang looked away.

“Yeah, you do. You’re his best friend.” He walked to the door and yanked a pair of boots on over his socks. “If he wants to talk to me when I get back, yell at me, whatever, he can. But—can you give me a little time? Just…don’t go upstairs for twenty minutes. I don’t think he’ll be in a rush to see me, anyway.”

Wooyoung looked troubled.

“Twenty minutes? That’s too long? Really?” His voice cracked.

“It isn’t that. You’re upset.”

“I’ll deal with it. Fear doesn’t make things go away. All I’m asking is you don’t throw me in without being ready. Twenty minutes. That’s it. Please.”

“Okay,” he said softly.

Yeosang took a deep breath. “Thank you. Thank you for not hating me, too.” Quietly, he let himself out.


	11. Lightning. Saturday Evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a longer chapter than the others. I didn't want to split it up. :)

San

“What? What did you just say?”

“Keep your voice down,” Wooyoung hissed. “You want Mingi and Yunho overhearing?”

“Two weeks. The whole time, he knew, Jongho knew—Hongjoong-hyung knew, too! Was it a _joke_ to him?” He stood abruptly. “He and I need to have words.”

Wooyoung shoved him back down on the bed.

“Shut up. Just shut up. His face when I figured it out.” He shook his head. “I offered not to tell you.”

“You what!”

“Shut. The fuck. Up. I offered. He said no, because you and I, we’re best friends. And, you know, that’s true. That’s true. But even best friends don’t always share everything. Nothing you feel right now comes _close_ to what I saw on his face. Misery and fear, San. Do you know _why_? Of course you don’t,” Wooyoung scoffed. “He _likes_ you. Has liked you for I don’t know how long, but was never, ever going to tell you. Because he is completely convinced you would be disappointed to know ‘someone like him’ liked you. He thought…San, he thought we would all four of us _abandon_ him if that ever came out.”

Everything that was precious and terrible. Jongho had meant it literally. Entirely. His jaw tightened and he swallowed against the pressure building inside.

“He told you all that?”

“No. He said very little. But it didn’t make sense. After he left—”

“He left?” San asked, feeling a twinge of alarm.

“He’s gone for a walk to mentally prepare himself for you to _yell at him_.”

“I wouldn’t….” That was a lie. That had been his first impulse. To yell. But not now. Yeosang still being afraid of…not him, but of the consequences of being someone he had…liked, but…not just that and…. “He must have had reasons, but I don’t understand.”

“Neither did I.” Wooyoung looked at him warily, then sat down on the bed next to him. “So, I called Jongho.”

“How do you have his number?”

“In case something ever happened to Yeosang. Like an accident. He’s first contact.”

“Oh.”

“I told him what’d happened. He filled in some huge gaps. He’s not as certain as Yeosang that you’d be horrified by a confession.”

“Why the hell would anyone be _horrified_? I mean, okay, people can be totally awful, but…shit, this sounds shallow. He’s beautiful. Even if someone wasn’t interested, no one’s going to be horrified if Yeosang confesses to them. That’s stupid.”

“How old were you when you had your first date, San?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just answer me,” Wooyoung demanded.

“Fourteen. Group date, though. Why?”

“Since then, one on one dates, too, of course.” Wooyoung nodded. “I remember you mentioning some of them.”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“I have a reason. Did you make all the right decisions on those first dates? Did you feel confident in expressing yourself? Did you know how to make your interest clear?”

“What does my—”

“Just. Answer me.”

“No, hell, no. I made a lot of mistakes.”

“Me, too. Yeosang has never learned any of that because he has zero experience. Never dated anyone.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Wooyoung let out a brittle laugh. “When you move to a new country and a popular girl in your grade plays up all nice, and when you go to sit next to her in the cafeteria, everyone starts pointing and laughing at you? When it gets so bad your 11-year-old friend has to fight off some of her 12-year-old friends knocking you around for daring to think you could even speak to her? Didn’t matter she started it. That’d do a number on someone, especially when they throw in racial slurs.”

“The senior year class president?” San asked, feeling sick.

“Oh, yeah. She never let anyone forget it. So how do you deal with that? You keep a low profile and feel lucky your younger friend made friends with the athletes so at least you don’t get physically attacked again. You lock it all away. You stay in your lane.”

“But he’s been here two years.”

“Fuck, San, use your brain. Aside from Jongho, we’re his only friends. If Jongho hadn’t come to school here, if I hadn’t been his roommate and pushed and pushed—he’d probably have _no one_. You think asking someone out even crossed his mind?”

“But at the party…he was laughing and relaxed….” He’d even flirted with Jongho, and Jongho had known entirely, and still gone red in the face. He’d been calm with Hongjoong-hyung. He’d been so outgoing…which wasn’t…exactly Yeosang’s normal procedure around strangers.

“He did that for us.” Wooyoung’s mouth twisted. “He went way, _way_ out of his comfort zone for _us_. That part, he told me. He didn’t want me sad. Because of that stupid argument. It was the four of us, you and me, Mingi and Yunho, that he wanted to save. He called himself the plus one.”

“No,” San whispered.

“Yeah. He saw it like that. He had no idea what the costume would be, he just wanted to win, so it would all go back to normal—for the four of us. He thought he’d be going with Jongho. But even after he found out the new plans, he rolled with it. Finding out _you_ , of all people, liked Harley Quinn enough to try to find him? Someone who was him, but not him—in his mind, at least. That’s when things got really, really fucked up. And I am _only_ telling you this, to keep in mind when you talk to him, so you don’t accidentally destroy him.”

Destroy? His head hurt. His chest hurt. Everything that was precious and terrible. What else? What could make this worse?

Wooyoung shoved his hands through his hair in frustration. “You don’t get to look like that,” he snapped. “In the middle of everything, my self-sacrificing idiot of a roommate realized it wasn’t just that he liked you, he…he _loved_ you. So Jongho said.”

“He…what? Why?”

“I don’t know! But _that_ was too much to deal with, I guess. He already told campus housing to cancel his dorm contract.”

San rolled his shoulders against the chill spreading up his spine. “What does that mean?”

“It means he’s moving in with Jongho. It was gonna be after finals, but he’s taking over what he needs tomorrow and he’ll just…start living there.” Wooyoung’s voice sounded heavy. “He thought it wouldn’t matter. Without him being nearby, that we’d just forget him.”

“ _Forget him_?” Yeosang had been in his thoughts, waking and sleeping, the last eight days—no, because Yeosang had been Harley Quinn, he’d been thinking of little else but him for two solid weeks. “Even if…if none of this had happened, how, no, _why_ would we forget him? He’s important.”

“Maybe he wanted us to. After hearing how much you liked someone like Harley Quinn—and realizing that whole one-sided love thing—do you think he wanted to stay close by? That’d be…miserable.”

The sad expression in Harley Quinn’s eyes. Once or twice, since summer, he’d seen that same expression in Yeosang’s, but it had vanished so quickly after eye contact, and he’d insisted he was fine. He hadn’t pursued it because he _seemed_ fine. And Wooyoung was his roommate, he’d know better if something was wrong. Or Jongho, he’d tell him. But he, San, was the cause? Same eyes. Same brown hair. Same amused mischief when he gave Wooyoung that ten-minute massage…with those same graceful hands. Same quick wit. He’d never really paid attention to how Yeosang moved, and the way he dressed was not anywhere _near_ as provocative as Harley Quinn’s…costume. It had only been a costume, of course, but obviously them being one and the same person…. Jongho had known, he thought abruptly. That conversation…

“That son of a bitch.”

Wooyoung hit him, hard. “Yeosang is _not_.”

“No. No! Not Yeosang. Jongho.” That little shit. He’d _known_ , he’d been the one to make him start thinking about Yeosang differently. Instead of Harley Quinn. But he was Harley Quinn. Had been. “Oh my God.” Jongho knew how Yeosang felt. So…what? Had he been trying to reroute his interest towards the real person?

“What are you talking about?”

“Shut up. I’m thinking. Do not hit me again. I will hit you back.” What did Jongho think would happen? That he’d ask Yeosang out? Well…if he hadn’t felt overwhelmed by guilt at causing his friend pain…if he’d thought he’d had a chance…then…yeah. He would have. But love. He wasn’t in love with him. He liked him. A lot. He was very, very attracted to him. And that was worse, now, thinking about, since Harley Quinn’s costume hadn’t revealed, but it hadn’t concealed like those huge, adorable sweaters Yeosang wore. “Oh my _God_.”

Love. Love? Not everyone fell in love at the same pace. Most people didn’t become obsessed with a stranger after a brief interaction one single night. Though now he knew why he’d seemed familiar. More problematic: emotional scarring and baggage. He sighed. Yeosang thought he’d be disappointed by a confession from him. San had been pretty sure of rejection the first time he’d confessed to someone. Of course, that one _had_ ended with a rejection. Which had made the second time more difficult. Hm.

“You’re driving me insane.”

“Wooyoung. This is important. I have to think this out.”

“What you’re going to say to Yeosang?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Shutting up.” He laid down on the bed.

A lot of people had made Yeosang’s life a nightmare growing up. He’d expect rejection. But he wasn’t afraid of everything. The story Jongho had told of him blasting the bullies. He wished there was a way to see that video footage. He hadn’t hesitated to dress as Harley Quinn, had done it all to mend their friendships. He’d thought it gutsy of a random stranger? It was much more impressive that Yeosang had done it. He wasn’t running away from what he feared tonight—he was trying to be ready for hostility. He winced. He was out there, on campus, somewhere, dreading a confrontation, but not running away.

Yeosang had never dated anyone. That wasn’t something he’d encountered in a long time, but it wasn’t bad. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. It could be seen as a benefit? Emotional baggage he _didn’t_ have, that some people did, when relationships went wrong. Plus…to be someone’s first date? When he understood how dating worked, and could actually plan things instead of winging it? To be someone’s first kiss? When he knew _how_ to kiss, and he really wouldn’t mind teaching…. To be someone’s first love. That sobered him. But it was there, apparently, whether he did anything or not. He had to talk to Yeosang tonight. Which meant he had to decide.

Option one, persuade him it was worth trying. He did like him a lot. He knew a lot about him. He appreciated him as a person. He was…precious to him. Enough so that when facing the choice between pursuing Harley Quinn and hurting Yeosang, or dropping the chase, it hadn’t taken much thought at all. It would take time and patience to convince him he could be whomever he wanted to be around San. Time and patience in most areas, probably. At least liking and loving both involved attraction and if Yeosang agreed to the general idea…he could easily make it clear disappointment was not even a possibility. Still, slower than slow, at first. It could work.

Option two, find Yeosang, let him make his explanations, forgive him—that wasn’t really an issue, he’d already forgiven him—and let him leave. Not hang out with him again. Not text him again. Not hear his laugh again. Not look at his eyes again. Okay, no. No. That hurt. He had to have him in his life. He’d just have to persuade him to agree to option one.

“Wooyoung?”

“You figured it out?”

“I have, but I don’t know how it’ll go. It’s not entirely one-sided, see, so—”

Wooyoung jerked his body upright. “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Um…before I knew he was Harley…eight days ago. Jongho led my thoughts astray,” he said dryly.

“Sneaky bastard,” Wooyoung said admiringly.

“Hm. Yes.”

“Then get out and go find him. Time’s ticking.”

“You’re in my room.”

“So?”

“So…I don’t know if I’m going to be coming back depressed or hopeful. I’d rather not have the stress of someone in my room weighing on me."

“Got it. I should go back, too, in case…please don’t fuck this up.”

“I’d prefer success.”

“Jackass.”

“Brat.”

“Yeosang calls me that!”

“I know. It works, sometimes.” He grinned at him.

“I’m done with you. Text me…text me a warning if…if it goes badly.”

San’s smile faded. “Yeah. Let’s hope it doesn’t.”

Yeosang

**Mountain:**  
Where are you?

**Me:**  
On top of my college building.

**Mountain:**  
You’re…what?

**Me:**  
On the roof of my college building.

**Mountain:**  
How??

**Me:**  
There’s a door?

**Mountain:**  
And you have a key.

**Me:**  
Yes…

**Mountain:**  
Unreal.

Yeosang sighed and laid the phone back on his chest. It was quiet up here. He breathed in and out, the air just cold enough to make his breath slightly visible. He should go back. He didn’t want to, but he owed it to him. Where were they supposed to talk, he wondered idly. Was Wooyoung going to leave the room? Or was San going to talk to him in his room? Mingi and Yunho would know something was up. They probably already knew, though…. Both places were awkward. Up to San, though. He was the one wronged. His phone buzzed again.

**Mountain:**  
I go in the main entrance and then what?

Was he…? Yeosang stood up, walked to the building corner, and peered down. Huh.

**Mountain:**  
Get away from the edge!  
You’ll fall!

**Me:**  
It’s not a flat edge.  
Why are you here?  
I was going to come back.

**Mountain:**  
I didn’t want to wait.  
How do I get up there?

**Me:**  
Stairwell in the back right corner.  
Door’s unlocked.

**Mountain:**  
Four stories of stairs. Joy.

He looked around. The building was tall enough, and there was a waist-high wall. Assuming San didn’t yell at him, they’d be unnoticed, but still. He walked back to the middle of the roof and sat down. Should he immediately explain? Maybe not. He might say too much. He pushed his hands into his coat pockets and waited. When the door finally opened, he tensed up.

“Yeosang?” a voice called out.

“In the middle. But if you give yourself a minute, your vision will adjust.”

San closed the door behind him and stood patiently, looking slowly back and forth. He didn’t seem upset, but maybe he was just wary of being on a rooftop. He started towards Yeosang. Okay. This was it. When he reached the center, he stopped a few feet away, and lowered himself to the ground.

“How do you have a key?”

Not the first question he’d expected, but logical.

“The first semester I was here, I spent every free minute in the computer lab, learning coding. I felt bad for the janitorial staff, since everyone else left hours before I did. So, I started bringing in cookies. And sometimes we talked. One night, I was…I wasn’t doing so well on a project. I was crying. The staff member that night saw me, and brought me tissues. And I just…I missed home. There’s so much light at night here, the stars are almost invisible, but he said the moon was the same. He walked me up and we stood a while, staring at the crescent moon. Same moon my family would see hours later in the States. It made me feel better. A little less lost. Every other time I was here late, and that same janitor was working, he’d pull me away and bring me up here. Just for the moon.” He let out a small puff of air, and tilted his head back. “After a year of that, one night he handed me a copy of the key to the door. It’s against all the rules, and he could get in huge trouble, and so could I…but I took it. Anyone in the building late is stuck in a computer lab or a filming room, so no one notices, as long as I leave before they lock the building.”

“So sometimes you’re up here, and not in the lab or the library?”

“Yeah. Be a full moon, in a few days.”

“It’s still a little hard to accept. That it was you. It never even crossed our minds that Harley Quinn was you. Jongho knew all along, obviously. And Hongjoong-hyung.”

“Wooyoung told you why, though? Why I did it?”

“He did.”

“I didn’t…I didn’t expect you or…anyone to really react. I just asked Jongho for something to disguise me entirely. He’s really good at make-up. I didn’t tell your director the details, just that…I had to make sure we won. Which we did. He didn’t know about the search until…until that night when you came here, to the college. I’d apologized to him for dragging his name in, trying to…push you all off track. He felt bad for me, I think. Jongho wanted me to say something, but I thought I could avoid being found out. And he’s used to protecting me, so please don’t be too upset with him. Just…say whatever you want to me. Every…every angry word, everything, just say it to me.”

There was a short silence.

“Do you think I climbed that many flights of stairs because I was angry?”

“It did seem strange, but…,” Yeosang paused, feeling confused, “you know now, about the costume and the lying and the misdirection. You wanting to tear strips off me is what happens next.”

San sighed.

“I was mad for about two minutes. Then I got read a lecture by Wooyoung. If I was even still mad at you—which I’m not—I wouldn’t yell at you. He’d kick my ass.”

Very slowly, Yeosang looked down. San had his legs stretched out, leaning back a little on his arms, looking right at him, but…not angry.

“He’s upset that you’re moving out. That didn’t make me happy, either.”

“How…?”

“He called Jongho after you left. I guess he got through right after your own conversation. He and Wooyoung had a talk.”

He loved Jongho. He really did. But the way San said that last word…Jongho must’ve said a lot more than he’d intended anyone knowing. Especially the man sitting just a few feet away.

“The information from that talk, that’s why neither of you is mad at me?”

“Partly. Wooyoung was more worried than anything. And when he told me why he offered not to share what he’d learned…that made any anger I felt just…vanish.”

He tried to remember if he’d said anything that would have that effect, but nothing came to mind. He’d tried to be as brief as possible.

“Do you know why I gave up looking for…well, you, but I didn’t know it was you, back then?”

“Jongho said you realized that he…I…could be in any college, since Kim Hongjoong knows so many people. And he told you about…the time in high school. He said you felt bad about triggering that memory and that, combined with how impossible it could be, made you give it up. So it was, um, partially for me.”

“Such a sneaky bastard,” San muttered.

“What?”

“It wasn’t partially for you, it was entirely for you. Yes, I felt awful for making you relive those feelings, but choosing between you and ‘Harley’ wasn’t difficult. That night…. That night, you looked scared…of me. And if I kept searching, chances were, I might see that again and I just…cannot handle that. Put me in any situation where one choice leads to you looking at me like that and I’m never going to pick that choice. When Wooyoung said you looked terrified when he figured it all out, and that’s what made him hesitate…what was I going to do? Stay mad? See that look again? No. I’d prefer a world where you were never afraid, but I can’t make that happen. If I _am_ able to remove a fear for you? In a heartbeat.”

That…was not anything like he’d been expecting to hear. His mouth felt dry. He’d brought a bottled water up with him, hadn’t he? Where had he been standing—no, he’d been lying down when San had first texted. Closer to the side of the building.

“Just.” He tried to clear his throat. This was so unsettling. He hopped up, rapidly made his way to his previous position, and snatched up the water bottle. He took two quick swigs, then reluctantly turned back around—to see San still watching him. It was like that party night, catching his eye before he darted off with Jongho. Except he couldn’t run off now. He didn’t…didn’t really want to. He walked slowly back to the center of the roof, and sat back down. It had been chilly outside earlier. Not so much now. He took another sip of water.

“Can I…?” San stretched his hand out.

This was ridiculous. So ridiculous. Just give him the damn water bottle. He leaned forward to pass it over—and instantly wished he’d worn gloves. Or that San had. He stared at his empty hand. That had felt like lightning racing through him, that slight skin contact. He did _not_ look up to see San drinking from the same water bottle he had just drunk from. When it was offered back, he shook his head.

“There are a lot of reasons why I wish you weren’t moving off campus. One is jealousy.”

Jealousy? Of what?

“I know you made that drawing of Wooyoung as a gift. I haven’t done anything to earn a thank you, and my birthday is next year, the month after yours. But I thought, if I asked it as a favor, maybe you’d draw one of me. Only, if you’re not on campus, there’s no place to go. Unless…unless you’d draw me in my room? Though if either of my suitemates came knocking, the group chat might get flooded with declarations that I was dating you. I’m perfectly fine with that, but would it bother you?”

He’d be perfectly fine with their friends thinking…if they saw him sketching him…did he mean like he’d drawn Wooyoung? Half-clothed? Gods above. His mouth was dry, his throat was dry, it truly felt like his heart was crashing against his ribs. Bracing himself, he reached out a hand, and the water bottle was passed back. There it was again. Like he’d touched a live wire. He drained the rest of the bottle.

“Would it bother you, Yeosang?”

“Would what bother me?”

“If you agreed to draw me in my room, and someone told the group chat that I was therefore, in reality, dating you, would it bother you?”

His brain felt…static-y.

“Why would it bother me?” he asked blankly.

“If you liked someone else, it might.”

How on earth could he ever?

“That’s…not an issue.” Though it was an issue if he’d actually be able to draw San. Half-clothed. Oh my God.

“There’s no one you like?”

“I…um….”

No more lies. Just say it. Nothing had gone the way he’d thought it would. Maybe he had to say the words to make the world make sense again? He’d only been asked if there was anyone he liked. He hadn’t been asked about love. He could keep that secret.

Do it properly. If this is your only chance, don’t regret any part of it. He forced his eyes to meet San’s. He was smiling at him. Oh, please, don’t let him stop smiling.

“I like you. A lot.” And then he held his breath.

Oh! That smile! He loved that smile so much.

“Good. I like you, too. A lot.”

He blinked at him.

“But you liked Harley Quinn—”

“Who was—or is it is? Which verb tense am I supposed to use? I still can’t decide. Same person as you.”

“I’m not like that. I can’t be like that every day.”

“Did I ask you to?” San raised an eyebrow.

“No, but you…you liked that personality.”

“Did you wake up and go to sleep as Kang Yeosang that day?”

“Yes.”

“Did you wake up as Kang Yeosang today?”

“Yes, of course.”

San shrugged. “I like you, Kang Yeosang, however you choose to present yourself on any given day. Although…I have to admit…and I really hope this doesn’t freak you out…you’re much, much hotter as you normally appear than you were the night of the party.”

“I…what? How? The others said people were staring at…Harley Quinn. And people don’t stare at me, normally.”

“Three things. One: they did stare, but it was at you, Kang Yeosang, wearing a costume. Two: people daily stare at you, Kang Yeosang, but you’re looking at a computer, a book, a drawing tablet, or food, and you don’t notice it. Did you even notice the stares at the party? No? I didn’t think so. Three.” He sighed softly. “I cannot believe I’m telling you this. Three: you in the costume, that was quite something, but it’s you, everyday you, who wrecks my sleep.”

“Oh. Um.” Was his entire face red? Probably. “I’m sorry?”

“I don’t mind.”

And that was…a very…very different smile. It made him feel…dizzy. He put one hand out and patted the roof.

“What are you doing?” San asked curiously.

“Making sure I’m sitting down, so if I pass out, I won’t concuss myself.”

It wasn’t fair. People shouldn’t have smiles that could double your heartrate.

“San?”

“Hm?”

“I’ve never dated anyone before,” he said as quickly as he could, and cringed, waiting for a response.

“Okay.”

“That’s all?”

“You stated a fact. I get what it means. I’m not in any rush.”

“Am I awake?” he asked suspiciously.

That got him a burst of laughter and a hug. How was this real? How did he go from trudging out of the dorm, telling Jongho he had to move out tomorrow, to sitting on the roof of his college, _in San’s lap_ , his arms lightly linked around him, able to feel his breath on the back of his neck whenever he spoke?

“I don’t have to move out tomorrow.” He’d text Jongho in a bit.

“Good. I didn’t want you to.”

“But I did cancel the housing contract. I will have to move out after finals.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

It was weird feeling someone’s body shake with laughter.

“Am I supposed to object?”

“How would I know?”

“Do you want me to object? It won’t change the outcome, but—.” San stopped abruptly. “Actually, wait. I need to ask you a question. Before I ask it, remember, I am not in any rush for anything. But…how much do you want me to censor what I _could_ say, in certain situations?”

“If you voice those thoughts will I look like an embarrassed manga character?”

“Not sure, but maybe.”

“Don’t censor. Not when it’s…just us?” He let his head fall back onto San’s shoulder. He could do that. He was allowed to do that. No one else was. Just him.

“In that case, I’m glad you’re moving out.”

“Why?”

“Because Jongho isn’t a strict landlady or a nosey dorm supervisor. No spot checks for who’s in a bedroom, or what they’re doing. If your door is closed, and I’m over there, no one’s interrupting.”

“Okay. Embarrassed, check. Nervous, half-check.”

“If anything makes you truly nervous, stop me.” Cool hands stroked his cheeks and jaw.

“Mm. Okay. That feels nice.” He was quiet a moment. “Oh. The drawing. Where do you want to do it?”

The hands briefly stilled.

“It can wait a while.”

“Why? I don’t care if the group chat is filled with comments.”

“It isn’t that. I would love, some day, for you to draw me. You’re so talented. But you have dangerous eyes. Me not wanting to rush you into anything isn’t the same as me having pure thoughts. When you’re very focused, your eyes get this intent look that’s…very tempting.”

“I’ve never thought of myself that way,” Yeosang said, in a bemused tone.

“I have. Remember how I said you, just you, were wrecking my sleep? It’s difficult to look you in the eyes and not start thinking what would tear apart that focus.”

Good side to dating Choi San, he thought weakly: very sweet, very gentle, very kind, very patient. Terrifying side to dating Choi San: seductive just with words, take away his censor and repeatedly find yourself torn between being turned on and horribly embarrassed, and…this was just the beginning. How did he get so lucky?

“Since when?”

San turned his head towards Yeosang’s, one hand falling away, and the farther hand tilting his head towards him “That’s tricky,” he whispered. “I wasn’t fascinated with Harley Quinn because of the makeup or the costume, or even how clever you were. When you were leaving, you looked back at me, and there was this _look_ in your eyes. I _knew_ I knew you. But you were gone. I begged Hongjoong-hyung for your name, but no luck. Then my search….which hurt you.” Very gently, he kissed Yeosang on the temple. “When I was talking to Jongho, I happened to bring up Wooyoung, and the sketches. The ten minutes massage, really. I said I didn’t know you could be that evil.” Lightly, he bit his earlobe. Yeosang hissed in a breath. Lucky he was, and in so much trouble dating someone who knew so much more.

“Your best friend told me I should volunteer to pose for you. And I thought about it calmly for, oh, three seconds, before I started having highly inappropriate thoughts. Just…you. I didn’t know why it was suddenly just you, your laugh, your smile, your voice, your eyes, but it was. Honestly, it’s everything about you. Smart and kind and funny, but your eyes. If you knew more, I thought, it’d be like staring at sin. Beautiful.” He softly kissed his jaw. “Decadent.” The corner of his mouth. “Sin.” He tilted his head slightly more and just grazed his lips. “And I knew you, when I saw you at the party, so in some part of my head…that sad look was memorized. Although, I wondered…it seemed like I saw…longing mixed with the sadness. And that’s what really made it difficult to let go. To know I knew you, but I didn’t know who you were. And then I find out it’s actually _you_.” Every pause had been a featherlight kiss. _He_ tempted _this man_? Fortunate didn’t cover it. “You, someone I trust. You, someone I admire. You, someone I have always liked. I had to know….if it was just my imagination….or if there was anything mutual.” San grinned at him.

They both liked each other, Yeosang told himself firmly. A lot. That was a start. And he felt…desired? Oh, that still felt embarrassing to think about. Lavished with affection and attention…what was he…was this a proper kiss? This very….melting…drowning….electric…sparkling……… He blinked his eyes slowly open. He loved that smile.

“Um…we should probably leave…,” he said reluctantly. “Being locked in the building is embarrassing. You spend a whole semester being the one who fell asleep next to the couch, not on it.”

“That was your excuse?”

“I checked to make sure I fit first,” he said defensively.

He loved everything behind that smile.

“Hm. I’ll take your word for it. You text Jongho, I’ll text Wooyoung?”

“Once we get downstairs and outside?”

“Sure.”

He loved him.

San

Walking back to the dorm, keeping pace, each on their phones, he glanced over at Yeosang. Close call. So close. He could have lost him forever, just…no. There was a third bedroom at Jongho’s…maybe he could stay there over part of the winter holiday. Much as he wanted more…slower than slow. Though it was addictive to say whatever he thought and see the reactions. He should be grateful for the slowness. He had been completely serious when he’d said knowing more, Yeosang would be…sinful. And still be adorable and sweet and smart and kind and just…how the hell did he get this lucky?

[Chat]

**Me:**  
I’m not naming this because it’s temporary.  
I didn’t tell him how much I knew from what you said.  
Except that I knew he was moving out tomorrow.  
Which he’s decided against.  
He chooses what he wants to say and when.  
If I slip up, that’ll suck, except one thing I won’t.  
And neither of you better, either.  
He likes me. A lot.  
I like him. A lot.  
I did _not_ mention love.  
Do _not_ tell him I know he loves me.  
Because I want to earn that.  
I want to earn the gift of him telling me that.  
And being able to say it back.  
Okay?

**Wooyoung:**  
Wow. Okay.

**Jongho:**  
Disney Prince.  
Most Disney Prince person I’ve ever met, hyung.

**Wooyoung:**  
Hah!

**Me:**  
Oh, for fuck’s sake.  
Just don’t ever tell him.  
Let me earn it.

**Jongho:**  
I hate sentimental shit.  
I’ll never say a word.

**Wooyoung:**  
I have no idea what either of you is talking about.  
I have an assignment to finish.

He deleted the chat with a smile.

Yeosang was still waiting on a response from Jongho. Tension eased away from him as he saw him smile and respond. Good. At Yeosang’s pace. For the most part.


End file.
